Walking Dead 1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hello again! Apparently I'm a sadist - I just can't get thoughts of Daryl's childhood out of my head so here I am writing about it and sharing with you. Seriously, my muse will not let this subject matter go.

**Warning: **This story contains explicit descriptions of abuse and adult language. If that's not your cup of tea, turn around now. If it is, welcome to the party, glad I'm not alone.

**Look at that M rating up there. You've been warned.**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters, I am merely borrowing them and will return them when I'm done. The plot is mine, however.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

The wind was bitterly cold against his bare face and arms, it cut through his thin dingy tank top and torn up jeans as he ran. The ground was wet from recent rain and leaves stuck to his bare feet. As much as his heart pounded, as much as his lungs burned, as much as his muscles screamed for him to stop, he couldn't. He couldn't stop sprinting away from the monster on his heels. Panic and adrenaline gripped him, pushing him forward. He knew, he knew what would happen if he stopped. Certain death.

Daryl didn't know what set the old man off again. One minute he's lounging, drunk, in that beat up old recliner next to the fireplace; the next he's chasing Daryl through the woods, leather belt wrapped around his fist.

"Git back here, you little shit!" he hollered. Daryl could tell he wasn't far behind – he could feel the tips of the drunk bastard's fingers brushing his neck and back. Panic gripped him even tighter.

The panic blinded Daryl from his surroundings and his waning adrenaline rush was leaving him fatigued. He didn't see the tree root but his foot felt it and he stumbled to the ground, getting a face-full of mud and leaves. Daryl whimpered and tried to crawl forward, knowing it was a futile attempt. Not even a second later the monster was on him, fingers wrapping around his neck, pressing his face into the hard ground. Daryl drew his arms up over his head and waited for the blows to come. He didn't have to wait long.

The old man straddled his thighs, keeping his left hand pressed against Daryl's neck while he unwound the belt from his fingers, letting the buckle hang limply. Raising his right arm he brought the belt down against Daryl's back. The metal bit into his skin and Daryl screamed but quickly bit his lip to keep silent. He'd learned long ago the beatings were worse when he screamed. He couldn't help the small cries escaping his mouth or his futile writhing, attempting to get away. The lashes stung and he knew the buckle was splitting his skin – he could feel the blood running down his back.

"What the-?" Suddenly the beating stopped, to Daryl's confusion. His father stood on his knees, feeling the seat of his pants – they were warm with moisture. In his pain and fear Daryl had wet himself. "You pathetic piece a' shit. Look what ya done! Pissin' yerself like a goddamn _baby._ Ya ain't never gonna be a man are ya?" his father sneered at him. "Fuckin' thirteen-years-old and pissin' your pants. Gonna buy ya some damn _diapers_," the monster raised his arm again.

Shame and embarrassment crashed over Daryl as he flinched, waiting for the beating to continue. The skin of his back stung like it was on fire and he could smell the blood. A cry escaped him as the belt struck him again, hitting previous wounds. The pain was too much and Daryl couldn't keep silent as tears ran down his face and he sobbed, begging for an end to it.

"Useless!" –smack- "Stupid!" –snap- "Ugly!" –crack- "Sonofabitch!" Each word from the elder Dixon's mouth was punctuated with a blow from the belt. "Quit yer damn cryin' 'fore I give you somethin' to cry about!"

Daryl couldn't stop. He just couldn't – he was in too much pain, he was too scared. He just wished he could die and escape this torment forever. But it never happened. No matter how many times he'd been at the mercy of his father's belt, no matter how bad his injuries had been, Daryl always lived to see another beating. And this time would be no different.

His crying out only fueled his father's rage and he flipped Daryl over onto his back, the dirt and debris from the forest floor rubbing into his wounds. He received a quick smack to the face, splitting his lip, but it silenced him. The monster dropped the belt and lay into his son with his bare hands, smacking, punching, and scratching Daryl's chest and stomach. Two swift punches to his cheekbone knocked Daryl out cold and he went limp.

It was some time before Daryl awoke again and he was confused as to why he was staring up at trees and blue sky instead of a water-stained drop ceiling. The pain reminded him – his whole body ached, no, _throbbed;_ the gashes in his back stung something fierce and he couldn't open his left eye. The pain brought his memory roaring back.

Groaning, he forced himself onto his side and then into a sitting position, nearly vomiting from the pain. He knew he had to get home, get cleaned up. His clothing stuck to his skin and made moving even more difficult than it already was. Daryl barely made it to his feet but was determined to stay upright. Slowly, he shuffled through the forest, making his way back to the shack he shared with his father.

It felt like several hours had passed before the house appeared in the distance but the placement of the sun in the sky told Daryl it had only taken him a couple hours to trudge his way through the trees.

A knot of apprehension settled in his stomach and Daryl paused, unsure of what awaited him. He grew angry with himself for being afraid and clenched his fists.

"Stop bein' a pussy and walk yer ass in there," he muttered to himself. With new resolve, Daryl completed his trek home and stepped up on the back porch, took hold of the door handle and shoved the door open.

The house was dark and quiet, Daryl stepped inside carefully, keeping an eye out for his father. He shut the door behind himself, tip-toeing through the kitchen and into the living room where he found his daddy passed out on the couch, snoring. Daryl breathed a small sigh of relief and made his way to the hallway towards the bathroom.

He closed and locked the door and turned on the shower. While the water warmed up, Daryl tasked himself with peeling his clothes off. He started with the easier of the two articles – his pants. They weren't stuck to him like his shirt was but they smelled something awful and he tore them off angrily, balled them up and tossed them into a corner. Fresh shame assaulted him, the memory of wetting himself and the things his father said to him replaying in his mind.

'_What would Merle think?' _Daryl stomped that thought quickly – Merle wasn't _here. _He'd gone and left him alone with their old man to go play soldier. '_Fuck him, he ain't here anyways. Prick.'_

As angry as Daryl was, he couldn't deny that he missed his brother. Merle could be a class A asshole but unlike their father, Daryl knew he cared. Or he thought Merle cared, until he up and left. Now he wasn't so sure. But he still missed him; things weren't so bad when Merle was around, he at least had someone to talk to, to go hunting with. Now Daryl was painfully alone.

Steam was filling the bathroom and Daryl attempted to get his tank off but it was practically glued to his back from the dried blood. Again, he tried to peel it off slowly but it hurt too damn much. Growling with frustration Daryl thought '_fuck it,' _took a firm grip and tore the shirt over his head in one fast motion. He nearly cried out from the pain but stopped himself in time - he had reopened all of his new wounds and they were bleeding freely again. Daryl stood with his hands gripping the sink with white-knuckles, clenching his jaw and waiting for the pain to pass.

After a time the painful stinging subsided to a dull throb and Daryl made his way into the shower only for the hot water to set off the pain again. He groaned, clenching the shower door handle, forcing himself to stay under the stream of hot water. Tilting his head back, the water wet his hair and face and Daryl scrubbed trying to get the muck off. He didn't bother with soap or shampoo figuring he'd set his wounds on fire enough for one day. Once the muck was rinsed from his body he shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. He dried himself off with the towel he left hanging from a previous shower, not bothering to dry his back.

Once sufficiently dry Daryl approached the mirror and wiped the steam from it, all too prepared for what he would see. His front was mottled with dark purple bruises and red scratches. His left eye was still swollen shut and his bottom lip was a little swollen where it had gotten split. Daryl turned around and looked over his shoulder to examine the damage from the belt. Hot pink welts and deep red gashes marred his back, crisscrossing over wounds, new and old alike. Most of it was congregated towards the top of his back across the shoulder blades but there were a few nasty gashes on his lower back as well. He knew the new injuries would scar, just like the old ones had.

Daryl sighed and turned away from ugliness that was his body, wrapped the towel around his waist and grabbed the soiled clothes from the floor. Snoring could still be heard from the living room and Daryl was grateful for that. He made his way to his bedroom, opened the door and froze.

His room was trashed – he didn't have much to trash but what little he had was destroyed. The picture of him and Merle, it was torn to pieces. What few clothes he had were strewn about instead of in the laundry basket he kept them in. The hand-made arrows his grandfather had given to him for his crossbow on his 7th birthday were all snapped in half. Then his eyes landed on his bed, if you could call it that. It was just a dingy mattress on the floor.

It had been stripped bare – no sheets, no pillow, no blanket. And sitting atop it was a package. Of diapers. Daryl could only stare, dumbfounded. His daddy had made good on his word to buy diapers for his youngest son.

The humiliation turned him beet red and Daryl ducked his head in shame even though no one was around to see it. Swallowing the unwanted emotions, Daryl dropped his dirty clothes and picked through his room until he found a clean pair of boxers and pulled them on. He kicked the diapers off his bed intending to get rid of them later. Right now though, he was too tired and in too much pain. He went to the closet and dug deep, fingers grasping, hoping his father hadn't found what he had hidden there. For once, he was in luck – his fingers grasped the soft leather jacket Merle had given him for safe-keeping and pulled it from the back of the closet. It was worn and supple and much too big for Daryl.

He curled up on the mattress and threw the jacket over his shoulders in a makeshift blanket. With his knees under his chin the jacket covered him completely; the weight of the leather fell over him comfortably, keeping him warm. It wasn't long before he was fast asleep.

**-****TWD****-**

**A/N: **Thank you for reading. I would really appreciate feedback if you would be so kind. I hope you enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Welcome to the next chapter! This one's a little less dark in my opinion but warnings still apply.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

He was nine-years-old and his mother was dead. His home was gone too, burned to the ground and he found himself in a small bedroom in a new home. He'd soon realize it wasn't a home, just a place he'd call Hell for the next nine years.

He was curled up in a blanket on a mattress on the floor, listening to the sounds of the forest outside the thin walls. He'd been into the woods plenty of times before – his grandfather often took him on hunting trips, teaching him how to track, navigate, and use a crossbow. But it had been a couple years since his last hunting trip – his grandfather had passed away a few months after his 7th birthday. And he'd never lived _in _the forest before – their old house was in a neighborhood on the outskirts of a small town. This new one was isolated, up in the mountains of north Georgia, even farther outside that small town. His daddy didn't much like being around people with their prying eyes and noses in his business and the townsfolk were happy to have the Dixon family at a distance.

Daryl sniffled; he missed his momma and didn't want to believe she was gone. Merle wasn't around either, off with his friends or stuck in juvie, Daryl didn't know. And he was terrified. Daryl was scared of his daddy before momma died – his wild temper and the nasty things he'd say, but he'd never been left alone with the man before and he was scared out of his mind. Daryl could remember his mom and brother's screams, victims of his father's temper and belt; even Daryl himself had earned a good smack or two to the face.

Now that he was all alone with the man, Daryl found himself hiding away from him as much as possible, trying to avoid his attention. And he'd begun to pick up on his father's behavior patterns, learned to tell when he was drunk just by the sound of his footsteps.

A creaking sound from the hallway had Daryl tensing up, listening intently. And sure enough, he could tell it was his father (who else could it be?), shuffling around on drunken legs muttering incoherently. The sounds were getting closer to his room and Daryl was frozen on the spot praying the old man wouldn't come into his room, would just pass out and leave him alone. But when was luck ever on Daryl Dixon's side?

His bedroom door swung open, slamming into the wall. Daryl could only see the silhouette of his father, his frame taking up the whole doorway and blocking the light from the hallway. A near-empty bottle of whiskey hung by his side, held loosely in his hand and Daryl sat up looking at his father with wide eyes full of fear.

He yelped when the bottle hit him in the face, it's remaining contents sloshing down his face making his eyes burn. The glass didn't break but the force it had been thrown with split his cheek and guaranteed a black eye in the morning. Daryl clutched his face, wiping his eyes and trying to see, everything was blurry but he could hear his father getting closer.

"What's a matter, lil shit? Can' handle yer alcohol? Quit yer pussy cryin' an' whinin,'" he stumbled into Daryl's room, falling onto the mattress and looming over his youngest son. Daryl couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him and scrambled back, trying to move away but the man grabbed his ankle and pulled him back.

"The fuck you think yer goin'?" his father snarled, reaching for his belt.

Daryl's heart hammered in his chest and his breathing quickened. His flight response took over and he lashed, out landing a solid kick to the old man's face and Daryl made his escape, pulling free from the monster and fleeing the room.

A loud roar followed him and his father was soon hot on his heels as Daryl flew out the back door and into the woods, the darkness of the night cloaking him. The monster halted at the tree line, unwilling to take chase after the boy. He howled his rage and punched a tree before retreating into the house and slamming the back door.

Daryl was unaware of his father's retreat and kept running. He ran and ran, panic pushing him further and further into unfamiliar territory. Eventually the panic subsided and Daryl grew tired, coming to a stop, panting heavily. And then he became painfully aware of just how screwed he was – it was pitch black outside, he had no idea where he was, he didn't have food, water, shelter, or even any decent clothes!

Fear welled up in his chest and tears pricked his eyes but he pushed it down. Fear had gotten him into this mess, he wasn't gonna let it make things worse. Daryl took a deep breath and decided there was nothing he could do until daylight and resigned himself to sleeping outside. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he spotted a large oak to curl up next to.

The next morning found him sound asleep covered in morning dew. He woke with the sunrise and stretched then relieved his bladder. The light of day brought no revelations as to where he was or what direction he came from. His thirst drove him to find water first, moving downhill where he knew the streams would flow and he kept his ears perked for the sound of running water.

He walked for miles, following the mountain down into a valley, hoping water would appear soon. His throat was dry and his stomach rumbled but that wasn't a new sensation. It was midmorning before he finally found a small creek. The water was cool and sweet, soothing his parched throat. Once his thirst was sated he started walking downstream hoping the small creek would lead to a larger water source – he knew a river ran down from the mountain and it passed close to the town so if he found it he'd be able to find his way home.

As he wandered next to the creek he kept his eyes peeled for food – berries, mushrooms, any sort of plant he could eat. His grandfather and Merle had taught him what to look out for and what to avoid. Daryl would have hunted squirrel and other small game but he had no weapons to take them down with and the creek was too small to fish from.

Daryl managed to find a large blackberry bush. His hands were cut up from the thorns but his belly wasn't growling so loud anymore. The hike down the mountain looking for food and water helped keep the fear at bay, having something to do kept his mind focused. The day wore on and Daryl continued to follow the winding creek until nightfall. He'd picked up some mushrooms and more berries along the way.

His body ached from the hiking, especially his feet since he had no shoes on and he was getting cold. Before the sun set he gathered small stones and dry brush and sticks to build a fire with. A fire would keep animals at bay and keep him warm. It took a little while to start up but soon enough he had a small fire. Daryl had a tree to his back and a fire at his front; he'd managed to find food and water and had a plan to find his way home. All in all, he was proud of himself for making it this far. He curled up against the tree and let sleep overtake him.

The next morning he woke because his backside was itching like crazy. He'd gotten up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and with morning light came the horrifying realization he'd used poison ivy for toilet paper. '_I think God hates me . . .'_ Daryl thought to himself, wondering why his luck was so damned _awful._

He knew he had no choice but to keep walking but the rash made it painfully miserable, especially when the sun got higher in the sky and he started sweating. If he survived this little 'hike' it would be an experience he'd never forget.

When Daryl could take the irritation no more, he stripped down and waded into the creek. It wasn't deep or swift, it came up to his thighs. He found a smooth rock to sit on and let the cool water soothe his blistered skin. The relief didn't last long but sitting in the water felt a whole lot better than walking around all hot and sweaty.

Daryl could have kicked himself; he couldn't believe he had been so stupid to grab those damn poison ivy leaves. He had been feeling good about himself last night but that one simple mistake brought his confidence level back to zero. Daryl couldn't stop the self-doubt from creeping up on him, he could hear his father's voice telling him how stupid and useless he was, the words bouncing around in his head and souring his mood. The worst part though, was that he was beginning to believe them.

He wished Merle was there, his brother would laugh his ass off at the predicament Daryl found himself in but Merle would have gotten him home too. Big brother Merle loved to relentlessly tease his baby brother and Daryl had received a few good knocks from him too but Merle wasn't trying to beat him down, he was trying to raise him up tough and help him survive the Hell their lives were. Daryl could imagine what Merle would say if he found his little brother having this little pity party for himself.

"_Git the fuck over it, little brother. Yer life sucks and your stupid ass ain't worth shit ta nobody but me. Big fuckin' deal, welcome ta life. Now put yer big girl panties on and move yer ass!"_

Yep, that sounded like Merle. Daryl grinned to himself and stood up, walking out of the water, and put his clothes back on. As miserable as he was, Daryl was determined to keep going. He was going to find his way home, one way or another.

He found himself a walking stick and trudged along the creek, doing his best to resist the urge to scratch. By nightfall he had walked many miles, still with no sign of a river nearby and he was starting to get nervous about that. But as long as he had the creek, he'd be okay, it had to lead somewhere. He found himself another tree to sleep under and built another small fire. He also made sure that wasn't 'poison' anything near his sleeping spot, he wouldn't be able to handle any worse than what he already got.

His stomach growled painfully - Daryl hadn't managed to find any food that day. Ignoring it and the insistent itching on his backside, Daryl fell asleep, exhausted from yet another day in the woods.

Day three began on a better note - Daryl had found some walnuts to munch on along with some blueberries. He took another quick bath in the creek and then continued his journey. The end of the day came and went and still there was no sign of a river. Daryl kept telling himself that it was near, it had to be, just a little more walking and he'd find it. But still he had not and he was getting more tired and more hungry with each passing hour. His feet and legs were killing him and the poison ivy rash was only made worse from all the walking and sweating, he could feel the blood from the open sores running down his legs.

That night he didn't bother with a fire and just curled up next to yet another tree and cried himself to sleep.

The fourth day was no better, in fact, it was worse. Daryl didn't find anything to eat and his progress along the creek was much slower than previous days - he just didn't have the energy and he was reaching his pain limit.

But the worst was yet to come - his creek disappeared, it had been getting smaller and smaller and finally disappeared underground. Daryl screamed in frustration and threw his walking stick against a tree, splintering it. He collapsed to the ground and pounded it with angry fists as hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He spent the last of his energy raging against his bad luck until he could move no more and the fifth morning found him asleep in the middle of the forest floor.

When he woke he could barely move but managed to crawl his way to edge of the creek and drink some water. It didn't renew him completely but he did feel a little better. But now he had no idea where to go, which direction that river might be in.

He thought when he found some mushrooms nearby that his luck might be changing a bit but they weren't like any his grandfather and Merle had taught him about. But at that point he was so hungry he didn't care if they killed him, at least he wouldn't die on an empty stomach. Daryl was going to regret that decision.

The mushrooms weren't poisonous but they were hallucinogenic and he was as high as a kite. It wasn't a good high though, it was terrifying, the things he was seeing - his father and all manner of terrifying beasts chasing after him. He once again found himself running but this time it was from an imagined threat. The nightmare lasted for hours and poor little Daryl kept going, running away as fast as his exhausted body would take him. Finally he was so spent he couldn't move an inch more, collapsing to the ground and passing out for two days straight. It would be a _very _long time before Daryl ate those mushrooms again.

He awoke towards the end of the seventh day of his forest adventure and he couldn't have awoken to a better sight - the river! In his frightened hallucinogenic state he had managed to wander his way right into it's path. Daryl crawled to the edge and drank his fill, then lay on the bank resting. He had found it, his salvation, his ticket home.

Daryl didn't try walking anywhere that day, instead spending his time gathering what foods he could find and regaining his strength. He woke early the next day - the sun hadn't risen yet but the sky had lightened from black to royal blue. Finding another walking stick, Daryl set off west, the sun rising behind him, following the river as it coursed it's way through the valley towards the small town Daryl knew would eventually appear. Once the town came into view Daryl would be able to find his way back to the house and into a warm bed. Thoughts of a pillow and blanket, a fridge full of food kept him going all day.

He was tempted to continue walking past sunset but decided against it and settled next to the river for the night. His gut was telling him he was close, just a little further and he'd be home free.

Dawn of his ninth day lost in the woods arrived and Daryl rose with the sun, stretching and yawning. By mid-morning Daryl could hear the sounds of civilization and relief flooded him as trees thinned out and his hometown came into view. He spotted the grocery store and knew where to go from there - he didn't leave the obscurity of the forest, too embarrassed to be seen in the condition he was in. Daryl could only imagine how he looked - grossly dirty with torn up and bloody clothes, wild hair, and wilder eyes. No he thought it best to stay hidden within in the trees and made his way home walking along the tree line.

It was mid-afternoon when he arrived back at home. His father's truck wasn't parked out front and Daryl couldn't have been more grateful for that. He made his way inside and went straight for the kitchen, his stomach grumbling loudly. Daryl was nearly drooling all over the floor in anticipation of real food and opened the fridge.

By any other standards the fridge would be considered near-empty but to Daryl it was an all-you-can-eat buffet of cold cuts, cheese, a few gulps of milk straight from the carton, and chinese take-out - he didn't even bother with a fork, scooping it straight into his mouth with his hands. He thought he'd died an gone to heaven - he should have known better.

"The fuck you think yer doin'?!" His father's voice boomed and Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin in terror. The takeout container slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor sending fried rice everywhere. His ravenous hunger had kept him from noticing his daddy's return and now he stood frozen to the spot looking up at him with wide eyes.

"I-I was hungry . . ." Daryl's voice was barely above a whisper.

"So ya think ya can just eat everything in sight? Did you pay for that food?" His father approached, looming over him, and Daryl started shaking. "The fuck is that _smell? _Ya been rollin' around in manure or what? The hell is wrong with you, ya can' even bother to bathe? Jus' like smelling' like shit, is that it?"

And that's when Daryl realized his father hadn't even noticed he was gone. Gone for over a week and nobody missed him. Was he really that unimportant?

"Answer me when I'm talkin' to ya, Boy!" A sharp smack to his cheek brought from his thoughts.

**-**TWD**-**

Everything went black after that. Daryl woke up covered in blood and vomit on the bathroom floor with a new assortment of bruises and welts covering his skin. Cleaning himself up, he made his way back to his room ignoring the rumble of a hungry stomach. A heavy weight had settled over him, a weight that would only get heavier with time – the crushing weight of loneliness.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Please, pretty please, review?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This one has Daryl around age 15 putting Merle in his twenties (I don't know the exact age difference between the brothers but I think it's somewhere around 10 years). This is one of the brotherly fluff ideas I've come up with so it's a little more lighthearted than the previous chapters. Well, as lighthearted as the Dixon brothers get, ha ha!

Special shout out to **Rabbitheartedgirl88****, **if not for you this fic would not exist. Thank you so much for the spark of inspiration! If you haven't read **What the Hell is Wrong With Me** you need to check it out, it's amazing and I love it! :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

"Time to git up, little brother, we got huntin' to do," Daryl felt Merle kicking at his legs, he groaned and rolled over. "C'mon, Darlena, ain't got all day. Git your ass up!" A swift kick in the ass had Daryl rolling out of the bed. He was grateful the mattress sat on the floor.

Groaning, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He felt like shit – his body ached and felt like a furnace, his stomach rolled and his head throbbed with a massive headache. Pulling some jeans on, he stood up and very nearly fell over again – he was dizzy. Daryl braced an arm on the wall and leaned over with his eyes shut, trying to keep from losing last night's dinner.

"Whoa, you alright there, little brother?"

"'M fine," Daryl grumbled, straightening up and looking for his socks and boots. He couldn't afford to be sick; they needed to get some hunting done before winter rolled in so they could have food through the cold months. And it was easier to get a big haul of prey with two expert hunters instead of one.

Daryl had been looking forward to this trip – it was the first time since he was twelve that it would be both him and Merle going hunting. His older brother managed to get some time off the military base in Fort Benning and decided to join Daryl for the winter hunting trip.

"Well then, get a move on, deer ain't gonna hunt itself," Merle slapped his shoulder then turned and headed for the kitchen. Daryl flinched at the contact, glad his back was to his brother so he couldn't see him jump or see the fear flash in his eyes.

Their daddy had really done a number on him but Daryl didn't want Merle to know that. Didn't want his older brother to know how weak and afraid he was. Didn't want him to know how damaged he was.

Daryl resented Merle for abandoning him to their father but he knew why his older brother left – their daddy had done the same to him and Merle chose to escape. He just didn't know why Merle didn't take him away too. But Daryl resented himself even more for sticking around, too afraid to leave or fight back. Maybe, he thought, maybe he's as stupid as everyone says he is – someone smart, someone strong, wouldn't have stayed.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, Daryl grabbed a long-sleeve flannel shirt and buttoned it up over the t-shirt he slept in. He was already sweating but knew it would be cold outside; he just wished his head would stop pounding and stomach would quit rolling. Grabbing his crossbow from beside the door Daryl threw it over his shoulder and joined his brother in the kitchen.

The strong smell of coffee assaulted his nose and did nothing for his queasy stomach but he grabbed the steaming mug from Merle anyway. They made breakfast a fast and quiet affair, neither of them wanting to wake the old man. Daryl managed a few bites before sliding his plate over to his brother to finish off. Merle glanced at him, shrugged, and dug in.

After breakfast they grabbed the gear they packed the previous night and headed out the back door and deep into the woods.

"Jesus, Darlena, what's the fuckin' hold up? Get a rock in yer shoe? Ain't never gonna get anything if we keep moving so slow," Merle snapped. It was early afternoon and they had yet to make it to their desired hunting grounds; Daryl was hiking slower, much slower, than usual.

Daryl didn't even have the energy to bite back at his brother; he was leaning heavily against a tree. Skull pounding and sweat soaked, he could only manage to glance up at Merle before dropping his head again. He was seriously regretting eating anything that morning, even the water he'd had since was rolling in his gut. Without warning his stomach decided enough was enough and heaved. Daryl collapsed to his knees and threw up. Waves of nausea rolled through him and he heaved until his gut was empty then sat, hunched over and shaking.

"_Goddammit! _I fuckin' asked you this morning if ya were alright! Now here ya are, pukin' your guts up_," _Merle was pissed. He came home to go hunting with his brother not play momma hen and nurse him back to health. But one look at his brother had him sighing and he approached Daryl, "C'mon little brother. I'ma haul your happy ass to the campsite so I can go do some hunting," he grabbed his arm and hauled Daryl up, putting his brother's arm around his shoulder.

"Why don' ya jus' let me go home, go withou' me?" Daryl muttered, stumbling alongside his brother.

"Fuck that. You ain't walkin' home by yourself in this condition. Prob'ly kill yerself tryin.' And I ain't turnin' around, goddamn waste of time," Merle wouldn't admit he just didn't want Daryl around their daddy in this condition. He had a vivid memory of the monster's reaction when he got sick all over the living room when he was still a little kid, long before Daryl was even born. It weren't pretty.

Within a couple hours Merle had dragged his brother to their campsite. It was a place they had scoped out years ago and set up as a base camp for their hunting trips because of its location within the hunting grounds. They didn't leave supplies or equipment but they had built a large, stone fire pit with a spit on one side for cooking game and a metal grill cover on the other for whatever other foods they cooked.

Daryl dropped his pack and crossbow, sitting down heavily. He was _exhausted. _His headache raged on, as did the fever, but his stomach had settled slightly. He was shaky and weak, barely able to hold himself up.

"What a pathetic sight you are, little brother. Get yer bag out and get some shut eye. Momma's gonna get some water."

Daryl didn't argue, just fumbled with his pack until he got it open and dug around for the sleeping bag, pulling it out and laying it on the ground. He didn't even bother unzipping it, just crawled on top and passed out within seconds.

When he woke up again night had fallen and Merle had a fire going with a rabbit on the spit and a pot of something cooking on the grill. He also noticed Merle had thrown his own sleeping bag over him while he slept – the fever must have given him chills. Daryl sat up, wrapping his brother's sleeping bag around his shoulders. His clothes were soaked from sweating and the night air was chilly on his damp skin.

"Mornin,' Princess. Git enough beauty sleep?" No such thing as pleasant bedside manner with Merle, he didn't do touchy feely crap but Daryl knew how to read between the lines.

"Feel like shit," his head _still_ throbbed and the fever was still there but to a lesser degree. The smell of food over the fire pit wasn't turning his stomach sour though. Merle got up and took the saucepan off the grill to cool, setting it in front of Daryl. It was a soup with chunks of rabbit meat, wild onions, and mushrooms.

"Try to get some of it down. Don't waste my good cookin' by throwin' it up everywhere neither," Merle returned to the fire and took the rabbit off the spit to eat for himself.

When the pot cooled down enough Daryl picked it up and brought it to his lips, taking a hesitant sip. The brothers rarely, if ever, used silverware while hunting – it was just one more thing to pack and carry when fingers and knives worked just fine. They only brought a saucepan and skillet, perfectly content to eat straight from the cookware or pick off the bone. He ate what he could, which wasn't much, hoping it would stay down. After returning Merle's sleeping bag he crawled into his own and fell asleep almost instantly.

**-**TWD**-**

Groaning and whimpering woke Merle from a light sleep. The fire hadn't burned out yet and still gave off heat and soft light. The dark blue tint of the sky told him it was past midnight but still a couple hours away from dawn. With the help of the dim firelight Merle could see his brother tossing and turning.

"Fuckin' Christ, can't a guy get some decent sleep 'round here?" he muttered to himself, getting up and moving to his brother's side.

He didn't even have to touch Daryl to know something was wrong; heat rolled off him in waves. The fever must have spiked during the night. To top it off, it seemed as if Daryl was in the midst of a nightmare. He was muttering incoherently and thrashing weakly. But the fever is what worried Merle; he knew it had to be dangerously high.

"Shit. C'mon baby brother, git up. We gotta get you cooled off," he nudged him with his hand, "Wake up, let's go. C'mon little brother . . ." Daryl jumped awake with a gasp and recoiled from his brother, staring at him with wild eyes.

"N **-**no, don' please, don't**-**" he didn't get to finish that sentence as his stomach once again heaved and Daryl puked all over his lap, retching until there was no more. He glanced up at Merle with tears in his eyes, "'M sorry . . . din' mean to . . . 'M sorry, I**-**I**-**" Daryl continued muttering apologies, tears streaming down his face, and Merle realized the fever had made him delirious.

"Cut that cryin' shit out," at Daryl's visible flinch Merle realized _who_ he had just sounded like. _'Fuck,'_ he thought to himself, then, lowering his voice, "It's alright baby brother, it's me. Merle's here," he refused to acknowledge just how much of a pussy he sounded like right there.

"Merle?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm here."

"Why . . . why'd you leave me?"

Merle had no idea what the hell his brother was talking about until he realized with sickening clarity _exactly _what Daryl was talking about. Why did he leave his brother alone with their father? Even Merle didn't really know – he was ashamed to admit that he had been terrified of their old man; so terrified that he turned and ran without looking back. It killed him to know he'd abandoned his brother but he couldn't make himself live with their father again.

And now he knew it was the biggest mistake he'd ever made – all Merle ever wanted was to keep his brother safe and in Daryl's sickness-caused delusions, he realized he had failed miserably. His baby brother was as damaged and afraid as he was.

"I ain't goin' nowhere baby brother," Merle only said that to comfort Daryl. He knew it was too late to save him, knew the damage had been done, and sticking around wouldn't fix anything. Merle realized Daryl had tried to keep him from knowing what their father had done and it was his sickness that allowed those secrets to come spilling out. But he also figured Daryl wouldn't remember this conversation and thought it best to keep pretending he didn't know what their daddy had done.

"We's jus' gonna get you to the water, cool ya down, alright?"

Daryl nodded meekly and Merle unzipped him from the sleeping bag then once again wrapped his brother's arm around his neck to help him stand. Merle got him to his feet but Daryl simply couldn't walk; his body so weak it couldn't hold weight and his knees buckled. Merle cursed whatever god gave the Dixons such shitty luck and hooked his arm under Daryl's knees to carry him to the river. It wasn't a long distance but his brother wasn't the light-as-a-feather baby he used to be either.

Merle approached the riverbank and slowly waded in until he was waist deep in the water, shivering from the frigid temperature. Lukewarm water was better for someone with a fever (cold water can be a shock to the body) but he didn't have any other options and Daryl's skin felt like it was hot enough to melt. Slowly Merle lowered his brother into the water and Daryl jerked at the cold temperature.

"Easy, brother. Water's gonna cool ya off," Merle had him submerged up to his neck and after a few minutes drew him out of the water and carried him back to camp. After setting him down Merle rummaged through their packs for the extra set of clothes they brought. Tossing Daryl a new shirt, socks, and boxers Merle grabbed his own clothes and stripped down then redressed. The cold had shocked Daryl into lucidity and he managed to dress himself, albeit slowly. He was just glad he got his new shirt on before Merle could glimpse the scars on his chest and back.

"Here, use mine 'til we get yours washed off tomorrow," Merle tossed him his sleeping bag and Daryl laid it out.

"What about you?" Daryl asked, crawling into the warmth of the sleeping bag.

"Figure 'm already awake. Might as well get some hunting done," the sun hadn't risen yet but the sky had changed from dark blue to a lighter shade, light enough for Merle to see what he was doing. "Get some sleep, I'll be back soon," he grabbed Daryl's crossbow and stalked into the woods.

A couple hours later Merle returned. Daryl was sound asleep and Merle touched his forehead, checking his temperature; still warm but nothing like last night. With his brother checked on Merle set about washing the other sleeping bag and prepping the dozen squirrels he'd caught for cooking. Daryl woke about the time he had them strung up over the fire.

"Well look who decided ta rejoin the land of the living. After all the chores are done, no less," Merle quipped.

Daryl didn't feel near as bad as he did the day previous. He didn't remember much from last night, just getting sick and going to the river, everything else was fuzzy. His headache was finally gone and his stomach rumbled in a "I'm hungry" sort of way. Merle tossed him one of the squirrels after grabbing a couple of his own. They ate quietly, enjoying the peace.

The day passed without his fever spiking or losing his stomach so the brother's hunting trip could finally get started. And for the first time in a long time they were happy, enjoying each other's company and enjoying the thrill of the hunt.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **I hope you enjoyed this chapter, I enjoyed writing it. Thank you for reading. Review?


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So I wanted to explore Daryl's academic life and dealings with people other than his father and brother so that's what inspired this next couple of chapters. Daryl's around 18 in this one, putting him in his senior year.

Thank you **Rabbitheartedgirl88 **for all the lovely conversations and support! :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl was slowly stirring from sleep, lying on his belly to keep from putting pressure on his back. His daddy had given him yet another beating with the belt last night and Daryl could tell some of the deeper cuts were still bleeding – he could feel the moisture from the blood on his already blood**-**stained sheets. Moving to get up he hissed when he put pressure on his left hand, painfully reminded that his father nearly broke his wrist in a death grip – it was swollen and a dark purple bruise in the shape of a hand encircled the joint.

Daryl managed to drag himself up off the mattress on the floor and stumbled his way to the bathroom to empty his bladder and brush his teeth. The mirror told him he looked as bad as he felt – he had a black eye and split lip, dark bruises mottled his chest and a twin handprint bruise covered his upper right arm. But his back was still the worst of it with long red gashes, the source of the blood trails on his skin, covering his shoulder blades. He didn't bother with a shower – the lightening sky told him his time was limited. Instead, he opted to grab a bottle of rubbing alcohol from beneath the sink and poured it down his back, biting his lip to keep from crying out.

Afterwards he managed to clumsily wrap bandages around his stinging torso to cover the still**-**open wounds on his back. He should have bandaged them last night but he had simply been too tired and in too much pain to do anything more than crawl into bed and pass out. It didn't take long for blood to soak through the bandages and he cursed. He knew he needed stitches but he hadn't gone to a doctor yet; he didn't intend to start now – no way was he letting anyone see him like this. By the end of the day he knew the gashes would stop bleeding; he was extremely familiar with the healing cycle of belt lacerations.

Daryl wrapped his left hand and wrist to hide the bruising before making his way back to his room to find some clothes to wear. He didn't have much to choose from, picking up a pair of old dirty jeans and a dingy wife beater; they were the least dirty of his clothes. They didn't have a washer or dryer and he wasn't going all the way into town to use the Laundromat, instead opting to wash his clothes as best he could in a nearby creek that ran behind the house. He got better results using the bath and warm water but when his Daddy caught him doing that things didn't end well. As a result, most of his clothes were nearly worn to pieces and far from their original color. The damage and bloodstains from the beatings didn't help either.

He pulled an oversized grey hoodie, probably Merle's, over his head; it hid the bruises and bloody bandages. Daryl knew there was no hiding his black eye and split lip but figured people would assume he'd been fighting anyway – just to be sure he punched a tree to bloody his knuckles as he left the house. He always walked to school, refusing to ride the bus. His years of hunting and hiking through the woods made the hike from his house into town look like a stroll through the park; it didn't take him any time at all to walk into town anymore.

The sun was peaking over the mountains as he made his way into town towards the high school. Daryl only went to avoid truancy charges – his father wasn't one to encourage education and learning but Daryl figured the old man wouldn't hesitate to use his skipping school as an excuse to beat the shit out of him. He didn't expect to be top of his class but he attended at least. Daryl wasn't stupid by any means but he was never given the tools he needed to learn properly – how can a kid focus on learning when he's hungry or in pain? How can he get an education when every book he's brought home was torn to pieces or burned right in front of him or he doesn't have basic school supplies to work with? Furthermore, how can he learn when those who are supposed to teach him write him off as another dumb Dixon instead of giving him the chance he deserved? That's the fun part of growing up in a small town where everybody knows everyone – they assume they know you because of your name alone. He figured it was only through some miracle that he'd made it to his senior year of high school.

Daryl was slow with reading and spelling; he was an undiagnosed dyslexic. He knew _how_ to read and write but he found it frustrating **-** reading took him forever and writing was just as exasperating because it was so easy for him to mix up letters and misspell the simplest of words. He just felt stupid anytime he had to write or read, especially since his daddy loved to torture him with the fact that he was "dumb." He'd hand him the Bible, the only book allowed in the house, and tell him to read it out loud. Then, as he struggled, the monster would laugh Daryl into a frustrated and humiliated silence. To this day Daryl would not read a book out loud – if teachers asked him to read a passage from a book they were studying he would sit silently, refusing to open his mouth.

English and science classes were his worst subjects but he would have done better in science class if not for all the required reading – he got the lectures just fine but he didn't have the opportunity to learn more from the book since it always got taken away from him – Daddy would just snatch it out of his hand telling him he didn't need any of that liberal science bullshit. _'Not like ya can read it anyway, dumbass.'_ He was much better at geometry but his inability to do homework assignments pulled his grade down despite how well he did on tests.

P.E. would have been another good class for him if he hadn't adamantly refused to change into the gym uniform of shorts and a T**-**shirt but there was no way he was stripping down in a locker room in front of all his peers. No fucking way, they made fun of him enough without seeing his marred skin. Due to his refusal the instructor benched him and he didn't get participation points which were the majority of the grade for that class.

Daryl's greatest skills went unnoticed – his uncanny ability to understand and figure out situations with the smallest bits of information; it was a skill honed from years of hunting and tracking. He was actually a very good listener and picked up a lot from the teacher's lectures; he had excellent deductive reasoning and critical thinking skills. But the school and his teachers just saw a lazy kid that couldn't memorize the periodic table of elements; couldn't be bothered to read the material or do the homework; and couldn't write a half-decent essay. They saw a stubborn, ill-tempered Dixon instead of a boy in serious need of help and guidance. Daryl was good at hiding but if someone had cared enough to look a little deeper than the surface, to notice the obvious signs of abuse and neglect, then maybe the public education system wouldn't be guilty of failing him as badly as his father had.

**-**TWD**-**

By the time he reached the school and walked into his first class, English, it was only a few minutes before the bell rang. He sat at his usual desk, careful to avoid irritating the gashes on his back, sitting as far from the instructor as possible. Ms. Crow was a plump older woman with a stern face and oversized glasses; Daryl swore he could feel her beady eyes glaring at him every time he walked into the classroom.

The bell rang and all the other students pulled out their books and paper to take notes on; Daryl just slouched in his seat and chewed on his thumbnail wishing he could be out hunting, taking his usual weekend escape into the woods. They were studying Shakespeare's Hamlet and _holy Hell_ modern English seemed a piece of cake to read compared to that old English crap – he was almost grateful his Daddy took that book. But of course, Ms. Crow wanted to start the day off on a bad note. Fucking _Mondays._

"Daryl, would you mind getting us started with the reading?" He swore he saw a smirk cross her features.

"I don' have a book," he mumbled and she frowned at him.

"Where's the one I gave you last week?"

"Lost it," _burned out back_, just like every other book he ever brought home. Ms. Crow sighed.

"Sarah, would you mind getting Mr. Dixon another book from the shelf dear?" Sarah, a total kiss-ass, nodded and retrieved another copy from the bookshelf she sat next to and tossed it onto Daryl's desk with a disgusted glare at him. He just glared right back.

"Now, would you mind getting us started, Daryl?"

He didn't even touch the book, just glanced around waiting for Ms. Crow to take the hint and pick somebody else. No such luck.

"We're waiting, Mr. Dixon."

"I ain't readin' it," he could feel heat creeping up his neck.

"You _will_ read it out loud or you'll leave this classroom right now and go to the principal's office."

"Easy pick, see ya tomorrow then," Daryl got up and tossed the book across the room, it landed right back onto the shelf it came from. Ms. Crow sighed and placed her hands on her hips as he made his way to the front of the classroom.

"Why must you make everything so difficult? Is it really so hard for you to read a few lines?" She wasn't attempting to be cruel with those words; Ms. Crow was unaware of Daryl's struggles since he kept it hidden but they still struck a nerve.

"Screw you! I jus' don' wanna fuckin' read that stupid ass book!" There was a collective gasp and then dead silence, waiting to see what the teacher's reaction would be; Ms. Crow was positively furious.

"Daryl Dixon! You _do not_ talk to your teachers like that!" Her voice was high pitched and she was in his face poking a finger at his chest; he tried not to flinch. "Boy, you need a come to Jesus meeting to save yourself from this pitiful road you're walking down. Or do you just want to be another dumb Dixon like your father and brother?" Ms. Crow's temper obviously got the better of her and she immediately regretted those words. Daryl's eyes went dangerously dark and he growled at her.

"Ya can't save the son of the Devil," and with that retort he spun on his heel and left a stunned class in his wake.

He didn't go to the principal's office like he was supposed to – he wasn't gonna sit there and listen to yet another lecture about how much of a failure he was. No, instead he sneaked to his locker in the locker banks and pulled out yet another "borrowed" copy of his science textbook, sitting down and cracking it open, hoping he could get at least a few pages read before next period.

Despite his father taking all of his books away and banning them from the house, Daryl still wanted to _try _to keep up with his schoolwork and managed to steal extra copies of his class texts to hide in his locker. He figured if he wasn't so stupid he would have thought to keep them there to begin with. But keeping them at the school meant he almost never had access to them – only during the school day. So he could take them home and watch them get burned or he could keep them safe in his locker without actually being able to read them. It was always a no**-**win situation for him.

Over an hour later the bell for next period rang and he'd only managed a few pages – even without his father around he could still hear the old man's voice ringing in his head, laughing at him and calling him stupid. It made concentrating on the words, an already difficult task, even harder. Sighing, he tucked the book under his arm and walked towards his next class. He was nearly there before someone knocked into his shoulder, hard enough to send him to the floor. Out of instinct he threw his hands out and gasped in pain as his left wrist screamed in agony from the weight. He rolled to his side grasping the injured limb, willing the intense pain to go away.

"Watch it, _freak. _Don' want Dirty Dixon getting my clothes all nasty," Brad, one of his usual tormenters, smirked at him. The shove had been intentional.

Brad was bigger than him but Daryl had the "Merle" advantage – nobody but his older brother could best him in a fight. He had a medium frame and wasn't barrel-chested like Merle but he had strong arms and he was fast, taking advantage of what his brother taught him about the weak points on the human body. Daryl picked himself up off the floor; he couldn't stop the heat rising to his cheeks but glared at Brad anyway.

"Go ta Hell, ya did it on purpose!"

"What ya say to me, freak? Best keep that dumb trap a' yers shut 'fore I close it for ya," Brad was goading him, it was one of the bully's favorite past times. And Daryl fell for it every time – he took shit from enough people in his life, he wasn't taking it from this asshole.

Daryl snarled and lunged at the other boy but before he could even get close Mr. Wilson, the science teacher, stepped between them and pushed him back, holding him against the wall with one hand, the other pushing Brad away.

"Is there a problem here, gentleman?" Mr. Wilson was looking at him. Of course.

Daryl's back stung from the pressure on his wounds and he had a brief moment of panic hoping the blood didn't seep through the hoodie too – that wasn't something he wanted to explain. He squirmed from behind the hand, taking the pressure off and glared at Mr. Wilson.

"No. Just keep that dumbass over there away from me," he snatched his book from off the floor and stalked into the classroom. Brad put on his best apologetic face and worked his charm on the teacher.

"I'm sorry about that Mr. Wilson. I bumped into him in the hall and he got all angry about it, started cussing me out. It was an accident, I swear, and I guess things got a little out of hand."

"Well, it's probably best you two keep your distance then. Wouldn't want things getting out of hand again," Mr. Wilson gestured towards the door, leading him to the classroom as the period bell rang, signaling the start of the next class.

**-**TWD**-**

The rest of the day passed uneventfully and Daryl found himself wandering the streets of the town; he wasn't ready to go home yet. Normally he would have gone back to the house, grabbed his crossbow, and headed into the woods but his daddy had taken his crossbow and other hunting gear from him for no other reason than to watch him starve. It was a sick game the old man played – he'd quit providing food and then take Daryl's only means of obtaining his own from him. And on more than one occasion the monster would bring home a bucket of fried chicken or some other fast food and eat it right in front of his starving kid. He enjoyed the _control _it gave him, the power to decide when to have mercy; the sick satisfaction he got when he made his boy _thank_ him for finally sharing or giving his crossbow back.

Daryl knew the fast food torture was on the menu tonight and opted not to play. Instead he found food the only other way he knew how. He hated it and how low it made him feel but he was _hungry. _Hunger drives people to do things they wouldn't normally consider and Daryl had swallowed his pride a long time ago in favor of not starving to death. He lurked in an alley between two restaurants, hiding in the shadows next to the dumpster, waiting. He was waiting for whatever scraps the two restaurants threw out – it was surprising the amount of wasted food that got tossed out because it wasn't "fresh" enough; it wasn't even uneaten food from a patrons' plates but untouched leftovers from the kitchen.

It wasn't long before one of the back doors swung open and a kitchen staff member dragged a large black bag to the dumpster before tossing it over the edge onto the trash heap and went back inside. Daryl crept from his hiding place and climbed up the dumpster, leaning over the edge to grab the bag and search it for anything edible. He really hated doing this and prayed no one would catch him. But when did God ever answer his prayers?

"_Oh. My. God. Is that Daryl?" _Sarah, the English-class brown noser, gasped and was standing at the mouth of the alley, hand over her face but still unable to hide her disgust. She wasn't alone, oh no, she was with Brad and a few other friends – they had just left one of the restaurants after eating dinner.

Daryl stiffened up and leaped back off the dumpster and just stood awkwardly, his face turning the brightest shade of red, wishing God would kill him on the spot. He didn't know what to do; he was trapped in a dead**-**end alley facing the worst public humiliation he'd ever known. When the desired smiting never came he gave a mental middle finger to the Almighty and approached the group, hoping he could barrel his way through and just disappear from sight.

"Were you _dumpster diving?" _Sarah asked and the group erupted into giggles.

"Dumpster Diving Dixon! Cool name right? It totally fits!" Brad was grinning as he got his friends to laugh, "No wonder you're so nasty, Dixon. Jus' cause ya eat trash doesn' mean ya gotta smell like it!" The group was laughing loudly, bent double with tears pricking their eyes.

"Best shut the Hell up!" Daryl growled, his head was down and fists clenched at his sides. He was furious, furious about getting caught; furious about being reduced to trash-digging in the first place, furious that the shit-pile that was his life only ever seemed to get bigger. He couldn't handle the shame coursing through him and let his anger take over.

His words went unheard, drowned out by their laughter so he stormed through the group and stalked away. They were too busy laughing to even notice his absence. It didn't matter though, they'd see him tomorrow – Daryl wasn't a coward, he knew they'd torture him relentlessly about this but he wasn't skipping school to give them the satisfaction of scaring him off. He walked a few blocks away and sat down heavily on a park bench. He just sat there for a few minutes trying to will his shame away and forget about what just happened.

"Quit feelin' sorry fer yourself and get your ass home before Daddy comes ta find ya. Don' want this day ta get any worse . . ." Daryl mumbled to himself; it was a habit he formed from being alone so much – sometimes he just needed to hear something other than the crushing, lonely silence. He got up and made his way towards home.

By the time he arrived the sun had set over the mountains and he walked into a dark house – the only light came from the TV his father sat in front of; the table beside the recliner was littered with fast food containers and beer bottles. The old man turned at the sound of the front door opening.

"Where ya been boy?"

"School," Daryl didn't mention wandering around town and his Daddy didn't ask why it took him 'til after dark to get home from school. His stomach chose that moment to protest how empty it was and Daryl's eyes dropped to the floor and his Daddy smirked.

"Hungry boy?" Daryl nodded, eyes and feet both glued to the floor, "Lucky you, I brought somethin' home for ya – it's on the table."

Daryl dared not to hope, he was far too used to his Daddy's games but tonight, it wasn't a trick – another bag of fast food sat on the table, a burger and fries, even a drink. He grabbed it and walked back through the living room, making his way to his room, food in hand. Before he reached the hallway a glass bottle smashed the wall above his head and Daryl nearly pissed himself in fright, flinching and ducking.

"Hey, whatcha say to yer Daddy for givin' ya food?" It wasn't out of the kindness of his heart that the old man gave Daryl food tonight. No, he simply didn't want him dying of starvation; Daryl was too much fun to mess with to let him die, that was all.

"Thank you, sir," Daryl spoke softly and his Daddy _loved _the scared look in his eyes.

"Tha's right, now git. Don' wanna look at yer ugly mug no more."

Daryl turned and walked away to his bedroom, shoulders slouched in defeat. He might be getting a belly full of cold food tonight but he knew he'd only have to go through the same shit again tomorrow. The same pattern, over and over again for five days until he could be free in the woods. No daddy to torture him there, no classmates taunting him, no teachers berating him. Just the smell of earth and sound of trees and water, the thrill of hunting and trapping; it was his safe place, the only place in the world where he could find peace and sanctuary. But he still had four more days to survive before he could be free again; the forest was the only thing keeping him going, it's all he had left anymore.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Well, I hope you liked it. Review?


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hello again! Still not quite finished with Daryl's high school days – I figure I've been putting him through some real crap and maybe he deserves a little kindness, right?

Thank you all for the warm reception, I truly appreciate every fave, follow, and review. I especially love seeing what particular scene/moment from each chapter speaks to each of you. Y'all rock!

**Guest2** this one's for you. :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Mr. Wilson sat at his desk, sipping coffee and reviewing his lesson plans for the day. There was still some time before classes started but he could hear students milling about in the hall, socializing and chit**-**chattering away. Most days he ignored the drama and gossip of the hormone**-**fueled teens but one group's conversation caught his attention, their giggles and laughter drifting into his classroom and distracting him from the day's planning.

"I can't believe it, what a _freak,_" he caught the voice of Sarah.

"I know, right? How trashy ya gotta be to go _dumpster diving?_" Brad snorted, one of the other guys let out a laugh. Mr. Wilson felt his stomach drop; this conversation was taking a disturbing turn.

"'Dumpster Diving Dixon,' that was so funny Brad, kept me laughin' all night! Can't wait 'til he gets here, gonna give 'im so much shit. No, gonna give him so much _garbage,_" the group burst out laughing and Mr. Wilson was horrified – the callousness with which they spoke, no empathy or realization that only someone desperately hungry would do something like that. It was just a freak show to them, an entertainment event. But what little he'd heard so far cast those students and Daryl in a new light and it motivated Mr. Wilson to take a closer look at the youngest Dixon.

The teacher didn't dislike Daryl the way some of the other staff did – he was disappointed that the boy didn't put any effort into his schoolwork and seemed to get into a lot of fights but now he realized he was guilty of giving up on him without even trying to figure out the problem. Mr. Wilson and the rest of the staff were happy to turn a blind eye and assume Daryl was his own worst problem instead of thinking that maybe, just maybe, something bigger was going on with the kid. The weight of that realization ate at him and he was determined to make it right. He would need to talk to Daryl but first he needed to deal with the teens standing nearby. The kids went silent when they spotted Mr. Wilson emerging from the classroom.

"Good morning Mr. Wilson, how**-**" Brad started in with his usual charm but the older man cut him off.

"I couldn't help but overhear your little conversation and the lot of you should be ashamed of yourselves! Someone else's misfortune isn't your entertainment and you should know better than to put others down and gossip behind their backs**-**"

"But Mr. Wilson, we really saw Daryl**-**" Sarah stopped talking when Mr. Wilson held his hand up and shook his head before giving a stern look to each of them.

"I don't care. It still doesn't make putting him down right. Detention, one week; all of you," his glare silenced any protests, "Now, off to class, don't be late."

Brad, Sarah, and the others walked away mumbling about how unfair it was. They sent glares towards Mr. Wilson who ignored them and returned to his classroom trying to figure out how he was going to approach Daryl. He didn't have him until second period so he had time to mull it over.

**-**TWD**-**

The bell rang, signaling the end of second period and Daryl started towards the door to disappear outside for the lunch break but Mr. Wilson stopped him, asking to speak with him after class. Daryl sighed and rolled his eyes and stood in front the man's desk waiting for the inevitable lecture but when he chanced a glance at his teacher it wasn't anger, frustration, or even exasperation he saw on his face. It was an expression he wasn't familiar with, it made him uncomfortable; people didn't look at him like that – with a soft expression and kind eyes. No, he was always met with a frown or upturned nose or a snarl.

"Please, have a seat Daryl," Daryl sat down, getting more anxious by the second. Mr. Wilson gave a small smile as he pulled a brown paper bag from his desk and emptied it onto the table; he grabbed a granola bar and offered it to Daryl, "My wife always packs these with my lunch. She knows I won't eat them but puts them there anyway. Do you want it?"

Daryl just stared at him skeptically, remaining silent, wondering what the man was smoking – no one _gave _him anything, not without a price. When the silence dragged on Mr. Wilson just set it down in front of him and cleared his throat figuring it best to get straight to the point then.

"Okay then, well . . . I overheard a conversation this morning. A conversation about you and I wanted to ask you about it," Daryl remained silent wondering where this was going and when it was going to be over. "A few classmates of yours said they saw you last night . . ." Mr. Wilson didn't miss the tensing of his shoulders or how red Daryl's face got as he cast his eyes to the ground. "Daryl, is, uh . . . is everything alright at home?"

Daryl's head snapped up and Mr. Wilson was surprised to see anger flash across his features, masking the embarrassment he spotted as well.

"Mind yer own fuckin' business. Everythin's _fine,_" Daryl snarled and got up, moving to stalk out of the room but Mr. Wilson couldn't let this go and grasped his left wrist to stop him from leaving. Daryl hissed and wrenched his arm away, glaring at the teacher; the sleeve of his hoodie slid back, revealing the bandages wrapped around his hand and wrist and Mr. Wilson felt terrible.

"Daryl, please, just wait a second, okay? You don't have to tell me anything**-**"

"Ain't nothin' to tell!"

"Alright, okay, I believe you," he didn't – Daryl's reaction was plenty confirmation that things were _not _okay at home, but he was trying to keep the boy from walking away. "But I know you're hungry – it's lunch time so at least take the granola bar?" He held it out in front of him, an olive branch of sorts. Daryl was still red in the face and breathing heavy but he did look as if he was considering the offer. Finally, after a few minutes, he sighed and swiped it from the teacher's palm before stalking out the door.

Mr. Wilson sighed and fell into his chair. That was not at all how he wanted the conversation to go but he celebrated the small victory in getting the boy to take the food at least. Perhaps that was how he could gain his trust – offer something without asking for anything in return.

So, day after day, Mr. Wilson would set his granola bar on the corner of his desk, knowing Daryl could choose to take it or leave it. To make it easier, he would busy himself with cleaning the chalkboard or filing papers away and then pretend not to notice when the corner of his desk was empty and Daryl was gone.

Daryl really didn't know what to make of the strange man but he wasn't going to say no to free food. He at least had _something_ to eat every day. It got even better when he found a brown paper bag sitting on the corner of the desk with a sandwich, apple, and a granola bar in it. An actual meal for lunch, probably the first one in years but before he could disappear out the door with it Mr. Wilson stopped him and asked if he would join him for lunch. It made him nervous and uncomfortable but figured he could put up with it since the man had been giving him food.

Mr. Wilson didn't delve into any uncomfortable topics but still he could tell Daryl was anxious, he was fidgeting and unable to make eye contact. Daryl had never really received this kind of one-on-one attention before and he stayed mostly quiet until he noticed something peculiar.

"You don' have a wedding ring."

"Hm?"

"Ya said you was married, that yer wife packs your lunches, but ya don' have a wedding ring."

"Oh, ha ha, yeah, um, you caught me," Mr. Wilson was a little shocked that Daryl remembered and noticed something like that; very observant. He wondered what else he didn't know about the kid. "I'm not married and I make my own lunches. Guess I made it up hoping to get you to take the granola bar without feeling bad about taking it. I'm sorry."

Daryl didn't say anything just shrugged his shoulders and kept eating, this conversation was getting into dangerous territory for him and Mr. Wilson sensed it but figured this might be his only chance to make a difference.

"I know you don't want to talk about it," immediately Daryl's shoulders tensed up, "and I'm not gonna ask, as much as I want to, but Daryl," Daryl glanced up briefly, "I know this is probably too little too late but if you need something, I'm here."

He didn't respond, looking anywhere but at Mr. Wilson before nodding and setting his half-eaten sandwich down. Sighing, he got up and met Mr. Wilson's stare with the most miserable broken blue eyes the man had ever seen and gave a sad smile before turning and walking away.

"Ya can't save the son of the Devil. Thanks fer tryin' though."

**-**TWD**-**

Mr. Wilson never saw Daryl again after that. He asked around about what happened to the Dixon boy and it was Ms. Crow that told him Daryl and his brother had skipped town. Some gossip-happy employee working at the hospital had spread the word that his older brother Merle had showed up in the E.R. last weekend with a bloody and half-dead Daryl in his arms, yelling for help. Said he'd been beaten up pretty bad from a bar fight. Then, as soon as Daryl was able, the Dixon brothers left the hospital and disappeared out of town.

Mr. Wilson had a sinking feeling it wasn't a bar fight that put Daryl in the hospital but kept his suspicions to himself. The thought of what _probably _happened made him sick but he hoped that getting out of this town would give Daryl the chance he deserved.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **See? Not _everyone _in that town is a total asshat. But what's this we hear about Daryl in the hospital? Guess you'll find out next chapter! Hope you enjoyed. Review?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **Hey y'all! Welcome to another chapter and thank you for reading. So this chapter details what put Daryl in the hospital and led to the brothers leaving town. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon Past**

Daryl walked into the house through the back door, a string of rabbits and squirrels over his shoulder and crossbow in his hand. He'd spent the weekend hunting just to get out of the house; the old man was on another bender. Daryl hoped the monster was on the tail end of it, sleeping it off, instead of looking for a fight.

He set his catch on the table intending to fix himself a sandwich before setting to work on skinning and gutting the rabbits and squirrels. He was digging through the refrigerator when he tensed up; his sharp ears picked up on his daddy's approach from the living room. The old man was standing in the doorway staring at the kills on the table then his eyes turned to his youngest with a disgusted sneer.

"Ya some kind of fuckin' animal? Whatcha think yer doin' puttin' that nasty shit on my table? Take that shit outside, dumbass."

Daryl immediately put the sandwich-making supplies back in the fridge and approached the table to do as he was told. He was confused though – he'd always worked on his kills at the kitchen table. Maybe the old man just liked to fuck with him by changing up the rules all the time. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to beat the shit out of him. Daryl leaned towards the latter.

As he approached the table and reached for the dead animals his father grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, slammed his face into the table, and threw him to the floor where he slid to a stop next to the back door. As the monster approached again, Daryl reacted quickly, grabbing his crossbow from the floor where he'd left it and aimed it at his father. Blood was trickling down his nose and his hands were shaking but he knew if he let a bolt fly he wouldn't miss.

He could see now something was off with the monster, even more than usual. It wasn't just alcohol he was on this time; there was something else in his system. Daryl could see it in his eyes and twitchy hands. Despite the crossbow aimed at his chest the monster sneered and continued moving forward.

"You ain't got the _balls _ta shoot me, little boy," the old man was grinning madly. The look terrified Daryl.

He knew he'd really stepped in it this time – his father was right, he was too scared to pull the trigger. And he _thought_ he knew what was going to happen because he was too afraid but Daryl didn't know just how bad it was going to get.

His father grabbed the crossbow and wrenched it from Daryl's hands, throwing it across the room. Then he grabbed Daryl by the front of the shirt and hauled him up only to slam him onto the table then tore his shirt open exposing the scarred flesh of Daryl's chest and belly.

"Look at ya, ya ugly sombitch. Ain't nobody gonna want you when I'm done," the monster pulled his belt from the loops and wrapped it around his right hand, leaving the buckle loose. "I'ma teach ya what happens when ya aim a weapon at ya daddy's face. Shoulda shot me, ya dumb fuck."

The monster stood between his legs to avoid getting kicked and Daryl threw his arms over his face to protect it as the blows from the belt rained down on him. He didn't scream, barely let a sound escape at all, but he couldn't stop his body from bucking against each strike. Once again his skin was torn open and bleeding heavily. The beating seemed to last forever and Daryl thought there couldn't possibly be an inch of untouched skin left.

But it was the cruel words that hurt the most. The monster telling him how stupid and worthless and _unwanted_ he was. How his momma's death wasn't an accident – that she killed herself to get away from _him_. How his brother didn't give a shit either – he high-tailed it out of there as soon as he could, didn't he? They left him with daddy because he didn't mean anything to them, they didn't care. Daryl wanted to argue but what his father said rang true – momma was dead and Merle wasn't around. Nobody gave a shit about him, just left him to die at the hands of a monster. And it seemed that time had mercifully come.

The old man stopped hitting him with the belt and shoved Daryl off the table onto the floor where he hit with a loud smack. Groaning, Daryl tried to crawl away, a streak of red trailing behind him. He didn't get far before the monster was on him again, grabbing a handful of hair and yanking back. Daryl managed to elbow him in the side but to little effect – the bastard grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back.

"Still fightin' me huh? Ya jus' ain't gonna learn are ya? I can fix that," and with a sickening snap the monster broke Daryl's arm; he screamed in agony, the first scream he'd let out in years. His arm was released and it flopped to the floor uselessly, twisted at an odd angle and Daryl could only stare at it in shock.

The monster released him but Daryl couldn't move, not even an inch. Soon he returned and kicked at Daryl's injured shoulder, getting him onto his back. Daryl had his eyes closed from the pain and when he opened them he wished he hadn't – his own crossbow was staring him in the face and his daddy held it with a sick grin and manic gleam in his eye.

"I ain't done with ya yet boy and I'ma make sure you don' go nowhere."

Daryl closed his eyes and waited. The pain didn't register at first but he heard the _thunk_ of a bolt being released and then pain blossomed through his left shoulder, the shoulder of his uninjured arm. The arrow had gone straight through, the head embedding itself in the wood floor underneath him, immobilizing Daryl. The pain was unlike anything Daryl had felt before, the arrow piercing muscle, bones, and nerves and he couldn't stop yet another scream from tearing out of his throat.

"Stop that pussy cryin' ya little sack a' shit!"

The monster was on him again, straddling his waist with fingers wrapped around his throat. Daryl couldn't breathe and his father's weight on his injured chest made the open wounds sting and burn something fierce. The hands around his throat tightened and Daryl felt his head being lifted and then slammed back into the hard floor - he was seeing stars now.

A hand left his throat only to form a fist and slam into the right side of his face. Daryl felt something break but the hits kept coming; over and over again the monster pummeled his face. Daryl was slowly fading, barely aware of his surroundings and he knew, _he knew,_ this was the day he was going to die. _Finally._

He didn't register the door slamming open or his father being torn away from him. All Daryl knew was the sweet embrace of darkness.

-A short while earlier-

Merle couldn't shake the sick feeling in his gut. Not since his dealer buddy mentioned selling product to his daddy. Something just weren't right - his daddy was a whiskey kind of guy, didn't need anything else. Merle had seen the man hopped up on coke once and that single experience was enough to make him never want to see that again. It turned him into a cruel sadistic sonofabitch. Well, an even worse one anyway. The worst of his scars was earned that night. And knowing the old man was on that stuff again put a knot in his stomach that he just _could not_ get rid of. Merle hoped his brother had the good sense to keep his sorry ass away from the bastard. He was heading up to the house just to be sure, knowing no other way to dispel the worry.

He rolled the bike into the driveway, parked it, and walked around to the back door. Through the grimy windows he could see his gut had been right on the money - he couldn't see his baby brother but he knew his daddy wasn't punching the floor, he could hear the distinct sound of fist meeting flesh along with laughter. A rage swelled in him and Merle saw red, clenching his fists, then charged through the door.

It slammed open, the frame splintering, and Merle grabbed the monster by the back of his shirt and threw him away from his brother, towards the living room. Merle didn't spare a glance at Daryl, too engulfed in his rage to focus on anything other than his intended target.

There was no satisfaction in the beating Merle dealt to the monster. He was too angry, too angry at himself for once again failing his brother. But he was gonna make sure this was the last time, the last time their sonofabitch father laid a hand on his baby brother again. This was the last time he'd fail. He beat the old man to a bloody pulp before standing with a disgusted glare.

"Ya go near 'im again and I _will _kill you," Merle didn't wait for a response before turning away and going into the kitchen. And his blood ran cold.

Daryl was still. Dead still. Blood pooled around him, his right arm still bent awkwardly, and Merle almost couldn't believe there was an _arrow_ sticking from his chest. But his face, oh God, _his face. _The whole right side was swollen and purple, Merle had never seen anything like it. Not good.

"No, no, no, no, baby brother. It can' be too late. It can' be . . . " Merle had dropped to his knees beside Daryl. Gently as he could, he snapped the arrowhead off to get Daryl detached from the floor. Then he cradled his baby brother's limp body to his chest and for the first time in years, Merle cried.

-Two Days Later-

Merle had rushed his brother to the hospital where they took him into emergency surgery - his eye socket and cheekbone had been shattered; they had to rebuild it with metal and screws. The arrow had missed the artery running through his shoulder but there was still significant damage to his shoulder that would take a long time to heal. Daryl's right arm was reset and put in a cast and the lacerations on his chest were stitched but they too, would scar.

Daryl had been unconscious ever since. The doctors told Merle there wasn't much swelling in the brain so the odds of permanent damage were low but they wouldn't know for sure until Daryl woke up.

Merle hadn't left his side once and he was going crazy. The looks everyone was giving them were putting him on edge and he'd already snapped at two nurses and the doctor today. He'd made up some lie about finding his brother in a bar parking lot, letting them assume it was a brawl that had done this. And they were happy to believe his lies, all too easily convinced because the Dixons were nothing but trouble.

Merle lied more for Daryl's sake than to avoid legal troubles with their daddy. He knew Daryl went to great lengths to hide what the monster did, even from his brother. And to Daryl's knowledge, Merle didn't know anything. And he was going to keep it that way - he'd tell his brother the same lie he told the hospital staff, that he found him in a bar parking lot. And Daryl would assume the monster dropped him there to avoid landing his ass in trouble.

A groan caught his attention and Merle realized his brother was waking up. His right eye was bandaged up but his left was fluttering open and Merle had never been happier to see that baby blue.

Daryl knew he couldn't have died and gone to heaven, he was in too much pain to believe that. He couldn't see out of one eye and both of his arms hurt too much to move. And his throat was drier than a desert.

"Christ, it's about fuckin' time baby brother. Was thinkin' you were gonna sleep forever."

Daryl panicked - his brother knew, Merle _knew. _He knew what their daddy had done to him, knew what a weak useless _thing_ he was. Daryl trembled and couldn't stand to look into his brother's surely disgusted face.

"Musta been some fight little brother, can' believe your worthless ass is pickin' bar fights. You's lucky I found ya when I did, nearly dead in the Blue Lounge parking lot," Merle instantly picked up on his brother's unease and let that lie slide out of his mouth. He knew his brother would put the wrong story together in his head but as long as he thought big brother and the rest of the world didn't know, it was worth it to Merle.

Daryl didn't say anything. His father had left him to die while trying to cover his own ass. He really was a worthless piece of trash. Daryl knew he wouldn't be returning to that hellhole, nearly getting his face smashed in was the final straw. He'd had enough. He didn't know where he was going to go or what he was going to do but he wasn't going back _there._

_"_I's thinkin,' with me bein' outta the army and all, we could head to Atlanta, get outta this shithole town an' see what kinda trouble we can get into there. Whatcha think, little brother?" No way in Hell Merle was letting his brother go back to their daddy.

Daryl only nodded, still unable to meet his brother's eyes. Merle smiled and clapped him on the leg and Daryl couldn't keep from flinching. Merle pretended not to notice.

**End**

**A/N: **Sorry, I just couldn't resist that scene with Merle finding Daryl like that. So much emotion. If the show can make Daryl cry I can make Merle cry dammit. Ah, the beauty of fanfiction.

Thanks for reading, hope you liked it. Review?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Hello again! Can't tell you all how happy I am that this story has received such a positive reception. All the favorites, follows, and reviews mean the world. Thank you.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

As soon as Daryl was able, the Dixon brothers left the hospital and headed to Atlanta. Merle took their daddy's truck and loaded some clothes, his bike, and Daryl's crossbow into the back. Weren't no way his little brother would ride bitch with him on the motorcycle, even if he was physically able. Merle almost wished he could see the look on the old man's face when he realized his truck was gone. The thought made him grin.

Daryl was quiet for the trip down, just listening to Merle ramble on about this or that, not really paying attention. He was still reeling from what his father had done; a glance in the mirror had him looking away quickly. His right arm was in a cast from his hand to elbow, his whole chest and shoulder wrapped in white bandages underneath the shirt he was wearing. There was a thin angry red line running along his hairline from his temple to just below his right ear where the surgeon sliced him open to fix his face. The doctor said it would fade with time and the scar likely wouldn't be visible. Daryl really didn't care – he was already covered in ugly scars, what's one more on his face? He was grateful the monster hadn't blinded him though; the eye itself was fine after a few days, no loss of vision or range of motion. The dark bruises around it had faded into green and yellow, it kind of made him sick to look at.

In Atlanta the brothers found themselves a crappy but cheap two bedroom house they could rent. It was old and run down with plumbing, electrical, and pest issues but it was a roof and four walls. Nothing they weren't already used to – if they could live most of their lives in the woods with trees as toilets and dirt as beds then this little house weren't nothing to complain about.

And their daddy _had_ bothered to teach them how to use a wrench; when he wasn't busy beating them with it, anyway. So the boys knew their way around plumbing and in exchange for first month's rent they agreed to fix it themselves. That's how Daryl found himself under the kitchen sink twisting the wrench around a pipe, loosening it. He was stuck using only his right arm, the cast making him awkward and clumsy. It was still too painful to do much with his left arm while his shoulder was healing, even simple movements causing excruciating pain.

"_Goddammit,_" he cursed as a jet of water hit him in the face, soaking him instantly, "MERLE!"

Merle came meandering in from the living room and a single glance at his brother's face had him laughing his ass off – Daryl looked like an angry wet cat, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes narrowed into slits.

"Ain't fuckin' funny, dumbass. You's supposed ta turn off the water!" Daryl snarled, temper flaring. With both arms still healing, twisting the ancient, rusty, water valve was near-impossible for him.

"Oh, I'm sorry princess Darlina. Didn' realize her majesty was too _delicate _fer a little water," Merle burst into another fit of laughter.

Yeah, maybe he'd forgotten to turn off the water but Merle didn't do 'sorry,' and this shit was just too funny. Well, it was until Daryl lost his temper and threw the wrench at him, hitting him square in the chest. Then he wasn't laughing anymore. Merle was _pissed _and lunged at his younger brother.

"The fuck you throwin' shit at me for?" Merle growled, his face inches from his brother's. He pressed his thumb into Daryl's injured shoulder, digging deep. Daryl hissed in pain and squirmed.

"Git the fuck off me!" He tried grabbing Merle's throat but the cast made it impossible to get a good grip so he tried kicking instead. His knee landed a solid hit into Merle's side and his brother rolled away.

They both sat, glaring at each other and breathing heavily, trying to calm down. Daryl's shoulder throbbed and he could feel it bleeding again; Merle was winded and knew there'd be a nasty bruise on his side come morning time.

"Quit fuckin' laughin' at me and turn the damn water off," Daryl picked himself up off the floor and stalked out of the kitchen to his room, intending to change clothes.

"Quit bein' a fuckin' pussy and throwin' shit at me," Merle retorted, getting up. He reached under the sink and twisted the water valve, effectively shutting the water off. Their biting remarks to each other were the last of that conflict.

Within a couple weeks Merle had made friends with dealers and was currently making some cash selling to junkies. Daryl found work at an auto shop nearby, learning the trade. The owner learned real quick it was best to keep him in the back with the other grease monkeys instead of dealing with customers – Daryl was not a people person. He worked hard and learned fast but the permanent scowl, foul mouth, and impatient attitude wasn't good for business.

When Daryl brought home his first paycheck Merle wanted to celebrate.

"Gotta legit job little brother. I'm proud of ya and I'm gonna take you out. We's gonna get shitfaced drunk and pick up some women; have ourselves a little fun," Merle threw his arm around Daryl's shoulder and dragged him outside to the truck.

Daryl was happy to go along, he didn't know anything about getting drunk or picking up women but he was up for a good time hanging out with his brother. Back home he only went into town for school or if he needed something from the store. The bars would've never served him anyway – two Dixons were bad enough, didn't need a third and Daryl knew better than to get into Daddy's stash. He'd shared a few beers with Merle on their hunting trips but that was about it.

His experience with women was even more limited. Frankly, the thought of anyone touching him freaked him out. He barely tolerated Merle sometimes, hating it every time he flinched, embarrassed by his weakness. So the idea of someone, some stranger, seeing his scars, seeing what had been done to him, and how pathetic he was, it was more than he could handle.

Daryl just didn't like physical contact – all he'd ever known from it was pain and suffering. The desire for physical intimacy had literally been beaten out of him. He was a man, just like any other, and had those physical urges but he was perfectly content with tissues, a bottle of lotion, and his hand instead of letting anyone get that close.

The bar was smoky and dimly lit. A couple of pool tables sat near the back, next to the hall leading to the kitchen. It was quiet at the moment but it wouldn't take long for the place to fill up on a Friday night. Merle ordered them a couple of cheeseburgers and beers while Daryl set up the pool table.

Within the hour the place filled up with people getting off work and ready to party the weekend away. The Dixon boys hustled a few guys outta some cash and were enjoying their beer buzz. Merle kicked it up a notch, ordering shots and Daryl nearly choked on the first one, the alcohol burning as it went down. His brother just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Ya ain't gonna stop drinkin,' I wanna see how red yer face gets!"

Daryl laughed right along with him and took another shot and definitely many more. Whatever happened after that was a blur. He could remember Merle spotting himself a woman and sauntering up to her at the bar. His brother probably left with her, Daryl didn't know. He remembered some faceless broad hitting on him too; she couldn't keep her hands to herself and it made his skin crawl. Daryl made his escape through the back exit and stumbled his way home.

-Next Day-

AC/DC's _Thunderstruck_ reverberated through his skull as blinding white light sent daggers through his eyeballs, straight into his brain. Merle was so _dead._

"Time ta git up little brother! Merle's got breakfast for ya!"

Against his better judgment, Daryl cracked an eye open only to be confronted with a greasy bag of fast food and a grinning older brother. The smell of it turned his stomach and Daryl found himself flying out of bed towards the bathroom, followed by his brother's laughter.

Minutes later he re-emerged looking even worse for wear. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skull felt about ready to split open. Daryl glared at his brother as he turned the stereo off but his brother was too busy laughing his ass off to notice the death stare he was receiving.

"Ya sick motherfucker. When I don't feel like walking death I'm killin' your sorry ass," Daryl snapped but Merle only laughed harder. His ribs hurt from laughing so hard and he could barely breathe. It was so worth it. The opportunity to torture his hung-over baby brother was too good to resist.

Ignoring his prick of a brother, Daryl grabbed his blanket off the bed and stalked to the living room and plopped himself on the couch, pouting. Merle pulled himself together, grabbed a glass of water and aspirin and took it to his brother. Daryl glared at him before taking the items.

"Aw, don' be like that little brother. Jus' a joke," Merle was still grinning and trying to hold back his laughter.

"Fuck you. Revenge is gonna be a bitch Merle," Daryl huffed.

"Go ahead 'n try brother. I'd like ta see what ya got."

It had been couple weeks since his brother had pulled the hangover stunt and Daryl had been thinking long and hard about how to get back at him for it. And now that he had an idea and plans to execute it, he was excited to get revenge. His brother's face would be priceless.

It was another Friday night and Daryl knew his brother was out partying, having himself a good time and would soon be bringing a woman home with him. It was almost like clockwork with Merle; Daryl knew his brother's habits too well and was taking advantage of them.

He was lying in bed, waiting, unable to keep the grin off his face. Soon enough he heard the front door open and close, accompanied by the sound of stumbling footsteps and giggling drunks. They stumbled past Daryl's closed door and approached the one next to his. Daryl sat up, waiting and listening.

Merle had her pressed against his door as he fumbled for the knob and swung it open, flipping the switch as he went. They both stumbled into his room and then stopped cold.

Pink. His room was pink. And _frilly. _The walls were pink, the curtains were pink and ruffled, his bed had a pink blanket and pink pillows and it was all covered in pink lace. And that wasn't even the worst of it. A unicorn. A goddamn giant unicorn sat on his bed just _staring_ at them.

"What the fuck? Ya some kinda sick freak, into little girls or somethin'?"

Merle didn't even get to answer before her hand connected with his cheek and she stormed out. He was dumbfounded; did he just walk into the Twilight Zone or something? He had no idea until he heard his brother's laughter from the other room. _Motherfucker._

Daryl's door slammed open and Merle stood there, livid. But Daryl didn't care; he was too busy laughing hysterically at the look on his brother's face and the bright red hand print on his cheek. The money he wasted redecorating Merle's room was _so_ worth it to cockblock and humiliate his older brother.

Merle was not amused. But if he were anything other than a drunk, pissed off, frustrated, older brother, he would have noticed that he'd never seen Daryl laugh like that. Not once. Hell he'd barely seen the kid crack a smile since leaving the hospital. Unfortunately, Merle _was _only a drunk, pissed off, frustrated, older brother and the source of his humiliation was still sitting there laughing at him. He moved towards Daryl and punched him in his injured shoulder, _hard. _It got him to stop laughing at least. Daryl hissed and curled in on himself grasping his shoulder as tears of pain came to his eyes. That punch hurt like a sonofabitch.

"Prick. Ya ever pull shit like this again, I'ma beat the shit outta you," Merle snarled.

"Go ta Hell. Told ya revenge was a bitch," Daryl spoke through clenched teeth but managed a smirk.

Merle smacked him upside the head then stormed out, slamming his door behind him. Daryl heard him go through the front door and peal out on his motorcycle. Despite his shoulder, he couldn't stop the grin and laugh at the memory of his brother's face.

**End**

**A/N: **I hope you thought this was as funny as I did. I wanted to do something a little more lighthearted after last chapter while staying true to the dysfunctional relationship between those two.

Anyway, thanks for reading! Review?


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Bet y'all thought I was done with Daddy Dixon huh? Nope. Did you really think that monster would take his sons leaving lying down? My twisted self still isn't finished putting Daryl through Hell. This is probably the darkest stuff I've _ever_ written, so brace yourself. **No, seriously.**

Also, canon be damned. Merle-Daryl sibling-ness is far too tempting to resist so canon can go fuck itself. Maybe if the show had given us more . . .

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

The Dixon brothers had settled into their new home in Atlanta; eight months had passed since their abrupt departure from their tiny mountain hometown in north Georgia. Daryl was still working at the auto shop near their home and Merle continued dealing to junkies. The older brother was the more sociable of the two, easily making friends and charming the ladies but his big mouth tended to land him in trouble. Daryl on the other hand stayed quiet, preferring to hang out with his brother; he didn't mind getting dragged around with Merle and his friends though.

He was wary and unsure of people; experience told him everyone thought more of the gum on their shoe than they did of him. The only time you could get a real smile, not just a smirk but a real genuine smile, is if Daryl had alcohol in him. But slowly, he was coming out of his quiet shell, occasionally dishing out a sarcastic reply or witty joke; laughing with Merle and his friends.

Just a couple of months after moving to Atlanta the brothers acquired a young hunting dog, a chocolate lab by the name of Duke. The original owner, an elderly neighbor, realized the pup was too much to handle and offered him to the brothers. Duke was almost a year old when they got him; Daryl took it upon himself to raise and take care of him. He couldn't wait to take him on his first hunting trip in a few weeks – he and Merle were going to go back up north to their winter hunting grounds.

Daryl had been working hard to get the strength back in his arms so he could use his crossbow again. Being unable to use it almost felt as if he were missing a limb; once he was able to draw it again, he and Merle decided to start planning their usual winter hunting trip. His shoulder had finally healed for the most part but it still twinged in pain occasionally and would ache something fierce anytime the weather changed. But Daryl was simply happy to be able to use his weapon of choice.

It was another Friday night and Merle was at his usual hangout but Daryl had opted to stay home for the evening. Before he left, Merle could tell something had his younger brother spooked but he didn't know what and Daryl wasn't talking, he just shrugged off his brother's questioning look and waved him out the door.

Daryl thought he was going insane. It just wasn't possible. How could his father be here in Atlanta? How could he have found them? Three times in the last week Daryl had spotted a man with a remarkable resemblance to his father but it was always from a distance - a block away from the auto shop, standing in the shadows across the street from the bar, and lurking around the corner from their house and he'd disappear before Daryl could get a closer look. He kept telling himself he was seeing things – that his daddy couldn't be here, he couldn't have found them.

But not even twenty minutes after Merle left for the bar, Daryl learned he wasn't going insane. No, his father _was_ here and he _had _found them and now? Now, he was standing at his front door, smirking, and pointing a gun in his face.

"Ya miss me, boy?"

Daryl couldn't speak, his throat had gone dry and it didn't take long for him to start shaking. His father walked towards him and he backed up into the house.

"Wha'? No warm welcome fer Daddy?" His eyes gleamed and he smiled a wicked smile. "You don' call, ya don' write. What's an old man to do but come and visit, huh?"

Daddy Dixon had spent the better part of the last eight months plotting. The loss of his youngest son, the loss of his _power _and _control_ had driven him over the edge, making him far more dangerous than he ever was before. This wasn't an alcohol or drug-fueled beating but a monster's attempt to reassert control. A burning, seething anger simmered under the surface and he wasn't about to let his boys get away with what they had done. No, he knew how to hurt them both in the worst way possible and now was the time to do so. He'd started by screwing with the kid's head, letting himself be seen only to disappear. Now he was moving on to the next part.

"Wh-what do you want?" Daryl's voice was quiet; he could feel the couch pressed against his lower back. Nowhere to go.

"I jus' want my little boy ta come home," Daryl could tell the old man was enjoying toying with him. He steeled his resolve, clenching his fists, and narrowing his eyes.

"Git out. I ain't goin' nowhere. 'Specially not with you."

"Oh, ho ho! Tryin' ta grow some balls, huh?" The monster laughed before his face twisted into something dark and dangerous, "Well too fuckin' bad, boy. Yer comin' whether you wanna or not!"

A low growl sounded from across the room. Duke could sense the tension in the room; he knew something was wrong with his alpha because of the stranger. His hackles were raised and teeth bared in a vicious snarl, slowly approaching the two men. The monster regarded the young dog with little worry before drawing his arm back and hitting Daryl across the face with the gun, causing blood to spurt from his nose. Duke snarled and lunged, jaws snapping around the monster's calf, tearing into the flesh.

The monster yelled and brought the butt of the gun down against the back of Daryl's head. The last thing he heard before succumbing to the darkness was the sound of a gunshot and a high-pitched yelp.

-TWD-

Daryl woke an hour later. He could tell he was in the truck with his hands and feet bound. A passing sign told him they were heading north, back to his hometown. He lost consciousness again.

He was jolted awake being dragged from the truck and Daryl realized he was back "home." But the monster didn't drag him into the house; he pulled him around back and into the shed, dropping him to the floor. After pulling the cord for the light, his father once again hauled him to his feet and Daryl's eyes caught something hanging from the center of the ceiling. Chains.

The monster snapped cuffs around his wrists; they were drawn up above his head, Daryl nearly hanging from them, his toes brushing the floor. Next his father took a blade to his clothing, slicing each article until it fell to the floor in scraps leaving Daryl naked as the day he was born. He couldn't stand being laid bare like this, he felt too vulnerable; the monster's chuckling didn't help either. The older man circled him, sizing him up and down, before grabbing his chin and snarling in his face.

"Ya always were an ugly motherfucker, seems ta only get worse with each day."

"Fuck you," Daryl had had enough; he wasn't playing this game anymore. Gathering what courage he had, he spit into the old man's face. The monster snarled and shoved him away then brought a knee to the boy's crotch, winding him. He couldn't even double over in pain, the chains keeping him upright. All he could do is suck in gulps of air and wait for the agonizing pain to pass. The monster stormed out the door, slammed it shut, and Daryl could hear it being chained up.

Two days he spent alone in that shed. No food, no water, no bathroom. Daryl's legs hurt more than he ever thought possible, his knees were locked up and he could barely feel his feet at this point. His left shoulder was _throbbing_, pain coursing through the joint but his other shoulder wasn't much better. Blood ran down his arms where the cuffs dug into skin and he couldn't feel either of his hands. His throat was so dry he didn't think he could speak if he wanted to and his stomach ached mercilessly, begging for food. His own filth covered his lower half; he had tried to hold it in for as long as he could but found it impossible, succumbing to his body's needs as white-hot shame and disgust coursed through him.

The sound of the door being unchained caught his attention. What did the monster have in store for him now? Daryl was too tired to even be scared at this point. The door opened and the smell of food reached his nose, his stomach growling loudly and mouth watering. The monster had a steaming plate of shredded meat and a glass of water. He took in the sight of his filthy son with a disgusted sneer.

"Not even animals piss and shit all over themselves. The fuck's wrong with you boy? Like the smell of it or somethin'? Or do ya just like bein' _dirty? _ Fuckin' disgusting."

Daryl hung his head in shame, face going bright red. Never mind the fact he had no other _options_, that it wasn't his _choice_; the humiliation of the situation was too much. But the monster was enjoying this, taking pleasure in his son's embarrassment and he decided to continue his little game. He held the plate of food in front of Daryl's face.

"Smells good, don' it?" Daryl couldn't stop himself from nodding, eyes locked on the plate. It was pulled away and his father took a bite for himself, "Ya want some?" He was looking at Daryl with a gleam in his eye, smirking; his expression said I-know-something-you-don't. But Daryl wasn't looking at his father; he was too hungry to take his eyes from the food and simply nodded again.

The monster's smirk turned into a full-on grin as he got close again, picking up a few chunks of meat with his fingers. Bite by bite he fed Daryl until the plate was empty, setting it down and giving him water. Daryl didn't recognize what he had eaten, it didn't taste like anything he'd ever had before – chewy and stringy, kind of bland but he was happy to have a quiet stomach. But the warmth of a full belly soon turned into a cold weight once his eyes fell on his father. Something was up but Daryl couldn't figure out what.

"Food good, huh?" Daryl swallowed and nodded a reply, his warning bells going off. "Don't know what it was though, do ya?" He shook his head no. The monster's grin only got wider as he strode from the shed and grabbed something from outside, then, standing in the doorway threw it to Daryl's feet.

No. Oh God, _no! _Duke, or what was left of him, lay at his feet, enough of him left to be recognizable. Daryl's face twisted in horror and he struggled to get away but failed to move very far. His gut twisted and he retched, emptying his stomach; the mess splattered his skin before landing on the floor at his feet. The monster laughed uproariously, bent double, slapping his knee. The look on his boy's face was priceless. With a delighted chuckle the monster pulled the switch for the light, locked up the door, and left Daryl in the dark with the corpse of his dog.

How much time passed, Daryl didn't know, he would have guessed close to a day. He was thirsty as ever but the awful stench of himself and the dog kept hunger at bay. His whole arms were numb and he was cold. Once again he'd found himself with no choice but to empty his bladder where he stood.

So many times in his life he'd called on God, begged Him to free him from the Hell that was his life. Screamed for mercy and an end to it all. But God never answered. So Daryl quit asking. But once again he found himself begging, desperate for anything to end this torment. Still, God was silent.

A commotion from outside drew his attention; he could hear two voices but could only make out his father's, the other was muffled. His father sounded angry and frustrated. Moments later the chains on the door rattled and the door was thrown open, the monster breathing heavily. The light hurt Daryl's eyes and he couldn't make out the second figure lying at his father's feet but it was moving around making sounds as if trying to talk through a gag.

As his vision adjusted Daryl's eyes met his brother's and he swore his heart stopped. It was one thing for his father to see him this way; he had no choice in the matter but Merle? Daryl had spent his entire life trying to hide what his father had done, trying to hide his shame, his embarrassment, his _weakness_. And within a split second, that illusion was gone and Daryl felt something within him shatter.

What the fuck had their daddy done to him? His baby brother hung from bloodied wrists, naked, and covered in his own filth with all of his scars there for the world to see. Merle knew that Daryl had wanted to keep their father's horrors a secret from him and he knew being exposed to his brother in such a horrific way would hurt Daryl in the worst way possible. His pride and dignity had been stolen from him. Merle's eyes met his brother's horrified ones and Merle couldn't stop the self-hatred from bubbling up within him. He had failed, _again._ And his brother paid the price, _again._ Within a single moment, Merle's hard work protecting his brother from losing what little self-worth he had left was gone and Merle felt something within him shatter.

Daddy Dixon knew Merle would come. When his eldest son came down from his weekend high and realized his brother was gone, he knew it wouldn't take long for the sonofabitch to put the pieces together. The monster had been waiting for him, had ambushed Merle and managed to get him bound. Dragging his sorry ass to the shed had been a struggle, Merle fighting him the whole way, even managing to make his leg bleed again from where the mutt bit him. But the struggle was worth it to watch his boys break.

"Lovely family reunion we got here boys, huh?" Grinning, the monster grabbed Merle and hauled him into the shed then threw him into a chair and bound him to it with duct tape. "I think yer gonna like what I've got planned, 'specially you, _big man,_" he sneered at Merle, a vindictive smile and dark gleam in his eye. Merle just growled through the gag and struggled against his bindings.

Their father left the shed but returned moments later, a buck knife strapped to his hip and pack of cigarettes with a lighter in his hand. Pulling a cigarette from the pack, he lit it and took a deep drag.

"You boys are gonna learn who's boss aroun' here. I've tried for years to beat it into yer thick heads but I think I finally know how to git through to ya," his smirk was directed at Merle. Without losing eye contact, he pulled the cigarette from his lips and pressed the burning end into Daryl's chest. The youngest brother screamed and writhed but couldn't get away; Merle lunged but couldn't move, yelling muffled obscenities at the monster who only grinned. Once that cigarette was burnt out, he lit another and continued the cycle of putting them out on Daryl's skin; over and over again, until the pack was empty. He found great satisfaction in his boy's responses; it was music to his ears. But he wasn't done yet, not by a long shot.

Pulling the blade from his belt made both boys go silent, anxious. He walked around Daryl, admiring his handiwork from over the years.

"Quite a collection ya got there, why don' we add to it, huh?" The expression on his face was terrifying, it was the face of a true monster who was enjoying this far too much.

He started on Daryl's front, slicing a long gash just below his collar bone and Daryl hissed, clenching his teeth. Merle continued rocking in his chair, face red with rage, continuing to yell. The monster continued, slicing up the skin with shallow cuts moving around Daryl's torso until he got to his back. There he retraced old scars with the blade, literally opening old wounds. He continued until he was bored before setting the blade down and approaching Merle.

On the outside, Merle was a seething mass of hatred and rage but on the inside he was as torn apart as his brother. It was killing him to watch this and he knew that was his father's goal.

"This is what ya get fer pullin' that stunt you stupid prick. Ya think you can come into _my _home and do what ya did? Think I'd jus' let you boys walk away an' take my truck with ya? You two must be the stupidest motherfuckers on the planet," the monster was centimeters from Merle's face but Merle didn't back down, he refused to be cowed.

The monster turned away from him, circling Daryl again and reaching out, fingers brushing skin – his chest, up and down his side, across his shoulder blades. Daryl squirmed, hating the sensation, his skin crawling and stinging. Suddenly, he could feel the monster close to his back, his breath in his ear and knuckles brushing his lower back as the monster worked his belt and jeans open. Daryl heard the zipper and a cold wave of fear rushed through him as he realized what was happening. Merle roared from behind the gag, nearly toppling the chair over in his attempts to be free of it and get to his brother. Daryl tensed when rough hands grabbed his hips and brought his bare back flush against his father's body. The monster's lips brushed his ear as he whispered.

"You'd like this wouldn't you? Take it up the ass like the dirty fuck you are," Daryl was shaking uncontrollably, skin white as a ghost, terror choking him. "Guess Daddy can be nice an' give ya what ya want," The monster laughed and pulled away, taking himself in hand and stroking his manhood to hardness before replacing his hands at Daryl's hips.

Daryl whimpered a pleading "no" and shuddered as the monster pressed himself against him. The monster chuckled, licked his ear and pressed forward; Daryl gasped in pain and clenched his eyes shut, a high pitched keening sound escaping his throat. Slowly the monster sunk in, reveling in the pain he was causing to _both_ of his sons.

Merle couldn't believe this was happening; this _couldn't _be happening. No, not to his little brother; not right in front of him while he could only sit and watch. He continued to roar his outrage, struggling to get free. But his rage masked the helplessness he felt; his gut was churning and he knew he was going to be sick.

The monster began to move in shallow thrusts, his eyes meeting his eldest son's and he grinned his wicked smile. Then he turned his attention back to his youngest, whispering in his ear.

"I'd do this to your mama too. She was a worthless little bitch, just like you," he gave a hard thrust making Daryl cry out and they both heard Merle puking his guts up. "Look at that, even yer brother's disgusted with ya; can' even keep his lunch down." Daryl couldn't even look towards Merle, he was too ashamed.

The monster went quiet, increasing his pace as his orgasm drew near. His fingers clawed at Daryl, nails digging in; there would be bruises. His back arched, hips thrusting at a furious rate as his teeth dug into Daryl's shoulder, his orgasm overtaking him. Daryl could feel it pulsing within him, filling him with white-hot seed. But soon, it was all over and Daryl felt the monster slide out, blood and semen running down his legs. He had gone silent. The monster tucked himself away then gave Daryl's ass a hearty slap, laughing as he did so.

"Not a bad fuck but I can only stomach doing a dirty prick like you once. I need a fuckin' shower," and with those cruel words, their father retreated from the shed, locking it behind him.

Daryl hung limply from the chains, staring blankly ahead. It was too much, all of it. He simply couldn't _feel _anything anymore; he was shut off, he was _broken. _Merle tried to get his attention but to no avail; he was working himself out of his bindings – his idiot father didn't think to empty his pockets and Merle had managed pull a switchblade from one of them and was slicing through the duct tape. God, why couldn't he get to the knife faster? Within moments his hands were free and one pulled the gag from his mouth as the other hand worked on his feet.

Even Merle was shaking after that ordeal. Being forced to watch such a horrific event, unable to do a damn thing coupled with his perceived failure to protect his brother was proving too much for him to handle. But Merle shoved his emotions down and focused on the task at hand.

"Don' worry little brother, I'm gonna get us outta here, alright?" Still, Daryl did not respond.

Merle approached him and reached for the cuffs above his head. Daryl flinched at the close proximity but otherwise remained silent as his older brother freed his wrists. Merle meant to help his brother to the floor but Daryl didn't appreciate his hands touching him and violently shoved Merle away before falling to the floor next to Duke. Neither his hands, nor his legs were working so he just lay on the floor as his limbs regained sensation, slowly moving them to ease the stiffness. His face still held no expression, completely blank.

Merle decided to leave his brother be for the moment, searching the shed for a gas can. He found one about half full and began emptying it all over the floor then tossed it into a corner once it was empty. Now all he had to do was wait.

They heard him coming back about an hour later. Daryl sat against the wall, knees to his chest, arms wrapped around them and his chin resting on top. Merle stood by the door, waiting with a knife in his hand. He had a promise to keep. The chains rattled and the door opened. Before a look of confusion could even cross the monster's face, Merle grabbed him, sinking the blade into his shoulder and then tossing him into the center of the room. The monster groaned in pain and then disgust when he realized the mess he had been thrown into. He wasn't given a chance to get up because Merle was on him knocking his teeth out.

Merle left him conscious but the man was too dazed to think about going anywhere. They both heard the click of a lighter and turned to see Daryl standing by the door with a cigarette in his mouth; he had re-lit one of the cigarettes used to burn him and took a deep drag from it. Merle stood and walked to his brother before turning to take a last look at the monster who was now realizing what was about to happen. His eyes went wide and he tried to crawl towards them but Daryl flicked the cigarette; it landed on the floor and ignited the gasoline as the Dixon boys backed out of the shed to watch it burn.

Merle watched the blaze with grim satisfaction; they could hear the screams of a dying monster. Daryl felt nothing. No satisfaction, no anger, nothing. He was numb. When the screams stopped he turned and limped into the house. Merle stood by a little while longer and by the time he reached the house he could hear the shower running. As he waited he searched for a first aid kit, knowing there had to be one around the house somewhere. They always kept a fully-stocked first aid kit for hunting but both brothers had secretly used it after rough nights with their father.

After retrieving it from under the kitchen sink he took it to Daryl's bedroom where he found his little brother laying on the mattress sporting only a clean pair of boxers. Daryl didn't move when he heard his older brother enter the room, just remained curled up on his side.

"Hey, we need to get ya fixed up little brother," Daryl almost laughed at Merle's words. 'Fixed up'? What a fucking joke, there was no fixing the mess that was Daryl Dixon. But instead of laughing he merely sighed and lay flat on his stomach so Merle could start with his back.

"Jus' hurry up an' get it over with," he muttered, his voice was hoarse and quiet.

Merle sat down next to him and drew a needle and thread from the kit. There were only a few cuts that required stitches, for the rest he applied an antiseptic wash and bandaged up. By the time he was done, Daryl's whole torso was a myriad of patches with a few angry red lines of stitches. Throughout the ordeal Daryl didn't flinch, he didn't hiss in pain, he didn't react at all. Merle finished cleaning and wrapping his wrists, careful to touch his brother as little as possible. Neither would make eye contact with the other.

Once done Merle retrieved a blanket and gave it to Daryl who wrapped it around his shoulders, curled up on the mattress, and went to sleep. When the next morning came they scrounged what food they could from the kitchen before loading Merle's bike into the back of the truck and headed back down to Atlanta. Daryl still said nothing, simply staring blankly out the window at the passing scenery but not really seeing it. Merle didn't bother trying to draw him into a conversation. Both boys were simply reeling from the events and it had left them changed.

Daryl couldn't hide what had been done to him and Merle couldn't pretend he didn't know. Not anymore. And those deep dark secrets being dragged to the surface, exposed; it shattered them both. Daryl knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was worthless, untouchable, _weak._ And he just couldn't make himself care anymore; he just accepted what he was and quit trying to become something he'd never be - worthwhile.

Merle knew he would never get the chance to make up for what he'd done; or rather, failed to do. His brother was a shell, shattered beyond fixing and he hated himself more than anything for not killing their bastard of an old man when he had the chance. For a short while there, Merle had seen a glimmer of hope within his brother – whenever he'd smile or make a joke or laugh. But his utter failure in protecting him resulted in the loss of that hope and Merle was disgusted with himself.

The Dixon boys would never be the same.

**End**

**A/N: Don't say I didn't warn you.**

Wow, this turned into a monster . . . This whole thing was pretty difficult to write, not gonna lie. It went _way _darker than I expected it to . . . If you didn't like it, I'm sorry to disappoint you.

I wanted Daryl broken. So shattered that it takes _years_ before he even _begins _to start healing. So that's why I took it to the dark place that I did.

This is also the point where this fic becomes AU – we know for a fact that something like this never happened to Daryl and Merle. I started this story with the intentions of being able to "plug" it into the show but it's become its own story.

And frankly, at the end of the day, I don't want the show to have to finish this fic for me. You can take the early chapters and apply them to Daryl's character on the show but I'm going to make this story my own. I want it to have a decent ending; I want to heal Daryl myself because, technically, I'm the one who broke him.

Anywho, off to the next chapter! Review?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews and favorites! I am so glad for the warm reception of the last chapter; I was worried it would be too much for some.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

When the boys returned home to Atlanta Daryl limped inside to his room, shut the door, and curled up on his bed. For three days he stayed there – he didn't want to move, every painful step a reminder of what had happened. But his mind was as cruel as his body, nightmares tormenting him – he'd wake, sick to his stomach, with the memory of his father inside him, the hot breath in his ear, the _pain_. He just wanted to forget.

Merle wasn't doing much better. While he was fine physically his own mind saw fit to torture him with the memories as well – he couldn't get the sound of his Daddy's satisfied moans, his brother's cries, or the god-awful sound of flesh slapping flesh out of his head. Merle couldn't stop the overwhelming guilt from consuming him. He just wanted to forget.

When Daryl emerged from his room, finally able to manage a normal walk, he found his brother sitting at the table in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke, they couldn't even meet each other's eyes. Daryl couldn't bring himself to look at his older brother; he was too ashamed and didn't want to see the disgust he knew he'd find on his brother's face.

Merle didn't know how he could ever look his brother in the eye again after he'd failed him so badly. Daryl's secrets had been exposed to him, his brother laid bare for Merle to see, and then he was tortured and raped right in front of him. And it was Merle's fault. Their father did those things to get back at _Merle _– the monster knew what protecting Daryl meant to him. Making his oldest son watch was as much a punishment for Merle as it was another painful humiliation tactic for Daryl. And if Merle had just killed the bastard when he had the chance, none of this would have happened. His brother wouldn't be _broken._

Merle couldn't take the heavy silence and left for the bar, unwittingly reinforcing his brother's shame – Daryl thought he left because he couldn't stand to be near him. He slumped into a chair and poked at the bowl of cereal he just made, barely eating any of it. If his brother couldn't stand to be near him then Daryl figured he might as well get out of the way.

Getting up, he set his uneaten bowl of cereal in the sink and went to his room to pack. He gathered some clothes and hunting gear, shoving it all into his hunting pack and throwing it over his shoulder, grabbing his crossbow as well. Daryl figured the hunting trip they had been planning was off the table but that didn't mean he couldn't go himself. He tossed his pack and crossbow into the truck before getting in himself and taking off up north.

Arriving within a few hours, Daryl found a spot to park the truck, deciding to get a couple hours of shut eye before dawn and starting his hike to their usual spot. He lay across the seat using his pack as a pillow and drifted off to sleep.

_He was on his back, legs spread, the monster on top of him grinning and holding him down while he pushed inside. The pain was too much and Daryl cried out, the monster laughed and continued to move. Merle was there too, arms crossed and looking down on him in disdain._

"_Help me," Daryl whimpered, reaching for his brother. Merle gave him a disgusted look and walked away while the monster's member throbbed inside him, laughter ringing in his ears._

Daryl woke with a gasp and barely got the door open before retching up bile, the acid burning his throat and tongue. Afterwards, he lay sweaty and shaking before angrily throwing his pack and crossbow from the truck and slamming the door behind him. He punched and kicked at the vehicle as rage and frustration filled him. He beat his fists against the old metal until his knuckles were bloody and his knees were weak; he fell to the ground as a sob wrenched itself from his throat and hot tears ran down his face. God, he just wanted to be _normal_. He just wanted to fucking _sleep. _He just wished he wasn't so pathetic, so weak, so worthless. If he wasn't those things, none of this would have happened to him. He wouldn't be ugly with scars, he wouldn't flinch every time someone got too close, and Merle wouldn't be disgusted with him.

Daryl sat on the ground and sobbed, releasing the pent up emotion until he was empty, numb. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and got up, picking up his bag and crossbow, before heading deep into the woods. Within a few hours he had made it to the campsite and set up camp before stalking back into the woods with his crossbow over his shoulder.

-TWD-

He cursed as an arrow once again missed his intended target, thudding into a tree. Climbing up he wrenched the arrow from the tree and dropped to the forest floor before stomping back to the campsite empty-handed. Daryl tossed his crossbow to the ground and sat down next to the fire, drawing his knees up to his chest. Not even the forest and hunting could bring him peace but he was grateful for the solitude. He had intended to stay for two weeks like he usually did for the winter hunting trip, but his inability to catch prey forced him from the mountain after a few days. He decided to go home; he had nowhere else to go.

Walking in the front door Daryl set his stuff down and kicked his boots off; Merle turned to him from the couch. Daryl could tell he was high – his eyes were bloodshot and he could see the joint between Merle's fingers.

"Where ya been little brother?" It was the first time they'd spoken since the shed.

"Nowhere," his voice was soft and quiet, no emotion. Since his tantrum next to the truck he was cold and numb and Daryl liked it that way. Merle sighed and turned away, he couldn't stand the dead look in his brother's eyes, his toneless voice – it stirred up the guilt he felt and killed his high. He needed a distraction and pulled a number from his pocket, grabbing the phone from off the hook.

Meanwhile, Daryl walked into the kitchen and grabbed a few beers from the fridge, taking them to his room, intending to knock himself out to avoid nightmares. He'd barely gotten any sleep in the last week and it was visible in the dark circles under his eyes. Daryl disappeared to his room; popping the caps off the glass bottles, he downed each one until his dresser was littered with empty bottles and he passed out on the bed.

**-**TWD**-**

The next morning he woke up hung over but he wasn't brought from his sleep by tortured memories this time; he couldn't have been more thankful for that. Emerging from his room he walked towards the living room but froze in the hallway as his eyes caught sight of his brother. Merle had some broad Daryl didn't know the name of bent over the couch as he pounded into her relentlessly. His chest was pressed into her back and his arms disappeared up her shirt. Her denim skirt was hiked up, panties around an ankle and Merle had his pants down just far enough to get inside her.

Normally this wouldn't bother him, it wasn't the first time he'd walked in on his brother having sex. Usually he'd sigh, roll his eyes, and find somewhere, _anywhere_, else to go until Merle was finished. But this time wasn't _normal. _The moaning, the sound of flesh against flesh, the very _smell _of it, caused a visceral reaction in Daryl; he turned and ran to the bathroom, heaving his guts up into the toilet. Afterwards he slumped to the floor but even in the bathroom he could hear them so he turned on the shower to drown out the noise. He remained curled up on the floor, hands pressed over his ears, eyes squeezed shut, and shaking. Was this ever going to end?

A little while later the door opened – he hadn't locked it in his haste and the woman his brother just hooked up with found him. Clearly she was too drunk or hung over to notice the sound of a shower running or to care that a closed bathroom door usually meant "occupied." Daryl didn't even register someone being there until he heard her call out to Merle.

"Merle, get in here, I think somethin's wrong with your brother," she turned back to Daryl and knelt down, reaching towards him, "Are ya alright sweetie?" He whimpered and flinched away from her hand; Daryl was lost in his memories and he really didn't want to be touched. She pulled away. Merle stood in the doorway taking in the scene and it sobered him instantly.

"Git out, I'll take care of it," Merle snapped.

"But-" she argued.

"Bitch, git the fuck out 'fore I throw your ass out," Merle snarled. Neither he nor his brother needed some broad puttin' her nose in their business. She gaped at him before returning his glare with an icy one of her own and stomped out the door.

"Fuck you, Dixon," she snapped at him as she left.

"Ya jus' did, bitch," he retorted before turning back to his brother. He heard the front door slam.

Merle turned off the shower before kneeling next his brother with no idea what to do. Daryl still had his eyes squeezed shut and hands over his ears, trembling. Merle didn't think his heart could break any worse than it already had but seeing his brother like this was proving him wrong. He placed a hand on Daryl's shoulder but pulled it away quickly when his brother flinched and curled in on himself more.

"Hey, it's jus' me little brother. Nuthin' to be scared of," Merle whispered.

When was this shit going to end? Here he was, kneeling on a dirty bathroom floor, trying to pull his nineteen-year-old brother out of some sort of traumatic episode that he was the cause of. His brother was suffering and it was his fault. Even worse, he didn't know how to help him, didn't know how to fix this awful mistake. And Merle _hated_ feeling useless; it frustrated him and made him angry. He was angry at himself, he was angry at his father, he was angry at the world or the universe or God or whatever you want to call it that allowed all of this to happen. His brother didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be the son of the Devil; he didn't deserve the worst brother on the planet, he didn't deserve those scars, and he sure as Hell didn't deserve to be reduced to a whimpering, terrified, hopeless little boy.

"C'mon, little brother, it's alright. Yer safe," Merle knew he would just die if anyone saw him like this – so soft, so gentle. But he figured his brother had already been reduced to nothing in front of him, why not do the same for Daryl?

A few minutes passed and Daryl calmed down. He didn't relax so much as his body just weakened from exhaustion. His hands came away from his face, lying limply on the floor and his eyes opened, staring blankly ahead. Merle reached for him again, sliding his arms under Daryl's knees and shoulders, scooping him up. Daryl _hated_ the sensation of hands touching him, _hated _being pulled so close to another body, _hated _feeling so pitiful and weak but he was too exhausted to even react. He knew Merle was only doing this out of pity and obligation. His brother didn't do _nice_, he didn't do _soft_. Once again he was filled with shame. If he wasn't so pathetic his brother wouldn't have to carry him like a goddamn _baby_, he wouldn't be having fucking _meltdowns_ on the bathroom floor because he walked in on his brother banging a chick in their living room. Daryl hated being reduced to this awful, weak, little _thing_ that couldn't even walk around the house without falling apart.

When Merle got Daryl to his room and set him down on the bed, he curled up with his back to his brother and didn't say a word. Merle stood there awkwardly for a moment before turning and leaving, shutting the door behind him.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **There you have it. The initial aftermath of the trauma I put the boys through. Don't worry there's still more to come.

This chapter feels so raw and emotional, I kind of feel like I'm getting out of character with them but I also think that's where they are currently – their hard shells are cracked right now and there's a good decade or so before they've rebuilt those 'tough guy' walls and they become the men we know.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Aaaand there goes my perfect 20,000 word story. Oh well, hope you like!

Thank you all for the faves/follows and especially those reviews! I appreciate all the love this fic's gotten.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Merle shut his brother's door behind him before his back hit the wall and he slid to the floor, face in his hands. He was so lost. How were they supposed to get past this? How was he supposed to help his brother? He really didn't know what else to do other than leave Daryl alone, give him some space. Merle wanted things to go back to normal; he just wanted his brother back. But he had no idea how to get him back or if it was even possible.

It was midmorning but he was exhausted. Too tired to even move, Merle sighed, leaned his head back and closed his eyes, letting himself drift.

_He was in the shed again, trapped, unable to move. The monster's face grinned at him from behind his brother, Daryl's body was jerking with the motions of his father. The sound of it nearly made Merle sick. His little brother's eyes met his but they were cold as ice, glaring at him accusingly. Daryl didn't say anything but he didn't have to – his face said everything. This was Merle's fault._

_The monster finished, a blade appearing in his hand, and that wicked smile split his face. Before Merle could even scream, the monster plunged the blade into his brother's back, the point sticking out of his chest. Daryl didn't make a sound, his eyes went dark and his chin dropped to his chest, going limp._

Merle's eyes shot open as he jerked awake. His neck cracked, stiff from sleeping upright and he was shaking. It was becoming too much, this whole situation – the nightmares, the memories, the guilt, losing his brother, _failing _his brother. Not even Merle "Badass" Dixon could handle this shit. Standing on shaky legs he made his way to the living room stretching out the kinks in his neck and back.

He didn't know what time it was but there was still light streaming through the living room windows so night hadn't fallen. Figuring it was late enough in the day for the bar to be open, Merle grabbed his motorcycle keys and left.

**-**TWD**-**

It was well after midnight when Merle stumbled back into the house, drunk and high from a night of partying. A wide grin was plastered on his face and he spotted Daryl sitting on the couch. He wasn't doing anything, just sitting, staring blankly ahead; he didn't even acknowledge his brother's return. There was an empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the table in front of him and if Merle was thinking straight, he would have remembered that bottle was unopened just that morning.

Daryl had woken up not long after Merle had left. He was angry and frustrated with his pitiful display that morning and just didn't want to _feel _anything anymore. So he had walked into the kitchen, grabbed that bottle of whiskey, and spent the rest of the day drowning his sorrows and going numb.

"Heeeey, lil bro. Whatcha doin'?" Merle slurred. Daryl barely responded, shrugging a shoulder without even looking at him.

His brother's unresponsive behavior annoyed Merle. He was too trashed to be thinking clearly and simply wanted to have his little brother back. What was this dead thing sitting on the couch? Where'd his little brother go?

"Hey, 'm talkin' to ya," Merle stumbled over to the couch and jammed a finger into Daryl's shoulder, trying to get a reaction. Daryl slapped his hand away and finally, _finally, _their eyes met and Daryl was annoyed. The whiskey was like a fuse, igniting his temper; he didn't want to be touched, he didn't want his brother in his face asking stupid questions, he wanted to be left alone to his misery.

But in his brother's angry eyes Merle saw something he thought he'd never see again – a spark, a spark of something _alive_. And he wanted to see more of it, even if it meant pissing his brother off to see it, because angry was better than _dead._ Furious was better than a blank face with unseeing eyes. So Merle kept pushing, drunken grin on his face, riling his brother up – continuing to poke and prod, invading his space and laughing about it. A part of him really wanted Daryl furious at him, really wanted his little brother to unleash all the anger on him that Merle thought he deserved. And no one was better at pushing buttons than Merle Dixon. Sometimes, he was _too _good.

Daryl was shaking, not from fear, but anger. Merle was in his space and he knew his brother was doing it on purpose. His shoulders were tensing and he had his fists clenched glaring at Merle.

"Yer too fuckin' tense. Ya need ta get _laid_ or somethin,' virgin," Merle teased then paused, pretending to be thoughtful. If he wasn't so trashed he would have _never_ uttered what came out of his mouth next but his drunk self was willing to try anything to piss Daryl off. "Not really a virgin no more, huh? Daddy took care a' that, din' he?"

"FUCK YOU!" Daryl roared and lunged at Merle, hands enclosing his throat as he knocked his brother to the floor and started throwing punches. And the button was pushed; Daryl's anger was unleashed. Merle felt his cheek and lip split but only laughed with a bloody grin. The air was knocked from his lungs when Daryl's fists beat his chest. Merle may have thought he deserved the beating but he weren't no pussy – he wasn't one to just lay down and take it. He fought back, shoving his brother off him and into the coffee table.

Daryl grabbed the empty whiskey bottle from the table top and flung it at his brother but his drunken aim was terrible and it smashed against the wall behind Merle who laughed.

"There ya are lil brother, wonderin' where ya went!"

His brother just growled and lunged at him again but Merle landed a solid punch to his gut that put Daryl on his knees, hunched over and trying to breathe. Merle circled him, laughing and prodding him with his foot. He was enjoying this; it was almost like old times. He and his brother would fight all the time, they really didn't know how else to handle conflict. But it was better than walking on eggshells, it was better than looking at the shell his brother had become.

"C'mon little bro, ain't ya got more than that? Don' pussy out on me!"

"Go ta Hell!" Daryl snapped, wrapping his arms around his brother's legs and pushing back, forcing Merle to fall backward onto the coffee table. The rickety old table collapsed under his weight but he was lucky enough to avoid serious injury from the large splinters of wood.

Merle didn't realize just what he was unleashing by provoking his brother. All of the hurt, the sadness, the _pain _that Daryl had held onto over the years; the frustration and helplessness he felt over what had been done to him, it was all bubbling up to the surface and turning into rage. A rage that would stay with him for the rest of his life. Daryl was tired of feeling helpless and weak and the anger his brother unleashed gave him a shield, a mask to hide behind – a barrier to keep everyone out and away from his deep, raw wounds. He wasn't going to let anyone hurt him again.

Daryl was on Merle again, pummeling his chest and abdomen with every ounce of strength he had. Merle was sure he felt a rib break and decided he'd had enough. He swung his fist and slammed it into Daryl's temple, knocking him to the side and followed that with a kick to the chest, further distancing himself from his brother. Daryl was disoriented and could barely draw in breath as he tried to get up and go after his brother again.

But neither brother had any energy left; the adrenaline was waning and the pain setting in. Both of them collapsed where they were, passing out until midday the following day.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl was the first to open his eyes, groaning at the headache throbbing through his skull. He could tell he had some serious bruising on his chest from the pain he was feeling but he had no idea how he got it or why he was waking up on the living room floor. He just remembered being furious; he could still feel the anger in him, under the surface. He didn't know _what _pissed him off but he was fine with angry, he could handle that emotion – it felt better than the other crap he'd been dealing with lately. His brother's waking groans drew his attention to the other side of the room; Daryl was surprised to see Merle's choice of bed – the broken coffee table.

"The _Hell_ happened?" Merle mumbled, rubbing his forehead – he was hung over too.

"No idea. Looks like we had it out or somethin,'" Merle was surprised his brother even responded and stole a glance at him. Flashes of the night before ran through his head – the desire to have his brother back, drawing the life out of him by pissing him off, the fight itself. He didn't remember just what he said to set Daryl off but he was happy with the result. He knew Daryl wasn't okay – you don't recover from what was done to him over night; Merle knew his brother had shoved it down, buried it, and now hid behind thick walls he helped him build. But he didn't have to look into dead eyes; he didn't have to feel the heavy burden of guilt quite so much because his failure wasn't right there for him to look at anymore, Merle could bury it and pretend he was fine too.

"You alright? Din' hurt ya too bad?" Merle asked.

"Nah, 'm fine. You?"

"Ya couldn' hurt me if ya tried little brother," Merle huffed a laugh that was cut short as his ribs protested the movement. Of course he was bluffing but he'd never admit he got his ass kicked by his younger brother. _Never._ Daryl snorted and rolled his eyes – the bruises on his brother's face were proof enough that he'd done some damage but he figured he'd let Merle keep his pride.

"Ya hungry? 'M starvin,' how 'bout we go get some breakfast?"

"Sure," Daryl shrugged a reply. Both men grabbed showers and decent clothes before heading to a diner nearby that served breakfast all day.

**-**TWD**-**

The days and weeks passed. Daryl found another job in construction after getting fired from the auto shop. Turns out employers don't appreciate employees that disappear for nearly two weeks and return without explanation – Daryl refused to tell his boss why he had missed work, unable to even come up with a lie so the man let him go. It probably didn't help arriving to work hung over - he'd taken to drinking himself to sleep in order to avoid nightmares. It worked, most of the time.

Luckily it was difficult to find people to do construction work in the middle of winter, even in Georgia, so Daryl managed to get a job working for a contractor in downtown Atlanta putting up a new skyscraper. Working outside didn't bother him and neither did heights.

The other guys left him alone – they just thought him a stupid, angry, redneck not worth their time. Daryl was perfectly fine with being left alone; he didn't figure he was worth getting to know anyway. So he'd come into work and do what he was supposed to, interacting with his coworkers as little as possible, then call it a day and head home while the other guys would go hang out and have a drink together. Daryl spent his whole life being alone, he didn't need friends now and he certainly didn't want them. He didn't want anyone getting close to him.

Keeping people at a distance was easy, especially when they thought he was going to turn on them at any second. One of the construction workers, Jake, made the mistake of approaching Daryl from behind and grabbing his shoulder to get his attention – the site was loud and noisy making it near impossible to hear someone approaching. Before he even knew what happened, Daryl had spun around and struck him across the jaw, hard enough to land him on his ass. Only Merle would have caught the flash of fear in Daryl's eyes.

"What the fuck, man? The Hell's your problem, Dixon?"

"Don' fuckin' touch me," Daryl snarled and with that, he stalked off, disappearing to an alley nearby so he could calm himself down from the flashback in private. It wasn't as intense as previous flashbacks but it was still enough to get a violent reaction out of him. Frustrated, he slammed his fist into the brick wall before sliding to the ground, waiting for his heart to stop beating so fast.

The other workers had seen what happened and approached Jake; they thought he should report it to the foreman and get rid of the hotheaded redneck. But Jake refused – being a veteran of the first Gulf War allowed him to recognize what happened with Daryl. He didn't know what the kid went through but he knew his behavior was in response to some sort of trauma. Jake didn't bother explaining that to the guys, he just told them not to sneak up on the kid.

Afterwards the guys kept an even greater distance from Daryl but he didn't miss the dirty looks they gave him and knew when they were talking about him. He just glared right back and flipped them the bird before walking off. No, he didn't need any friends.

**-**TWD**-**

Yet another weekend had arrived and Merle finally managed to drag Daryl to the bar to watch the game. They had eaten and played some pool before settling down at the bar to watch the TV. Half time hadn't even arrived before Merle disappeared with a woman, leaving Daryl by himself nursing a beer. He sat hunched over the bar trying to avoid contact with the guys sitting next to him and keeping his eyes trained on the TV to keep from having to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, that didn't keep everyone away.

"Hey sugar, how 'bout you 'n' me have some fun, hm?" a woman with a sickeningly sweet voice approached him without his notice, pressing her chest against his back and wrapping her arms around his middle, a hand ghosting over his crotch.

_He could feel the monster pressed against his back, hands gripping his hips as he begged him to stop-_

Daryl jerked violently, dropping his beer and pushing away from the bar. He grabbed the invasive limbs and shoved them away before spinning around and bolting to the back door. The very intoxicated woman stumbled after him, completely unaware he was fleeing _from_ her, not taking her to a more private place. She found him crouched next to the wall, breathing heavily which she mistook for excitement, not fear.

"Ya wanna go down first, huh? Gentleman, I see . . ." she giggled and approached, standing before him and hiking her skirt up but before it got very far Daryl pushed her away and stood up, flattening his back against the wall, wishing he could disappear into it. Why wouldn't this bitch take a hint and leave him alone? Still, she was persistent, pressing herself against him, a knee pushing between his legs, hands finding their way under his shirt and dangerously close to his scars. That was the final straw. He gripped her upper arms and shoved her away violently, hard enough to send her to the ground.

"Ouch! I don' mind rough honey but ya need to work on ya touch!"

"Fuck off, not interested bitch. Keep ya damn hands to yourself!" Daryl stormed off before she could get back up. "Ya wouldn' want me anyway . . . ain't no good," he mumbled out of earshot. Daryl hated his body's response to her touch - walking with an erection was an unpleasant experience and having gotten turned on at all soured his stomach. He knew he'd never be with a woman, not with how dirty and _used _he felt. No woman wants to sleep with that and he really didn't want to be intimate with someone anyway. It was too close to home, too close to those deep wounds. He hadn't been too interested in sex before his father raped him; he was already averse to physical contact at that point. Now Daryl was one hundred percent sure he didn't want any part of it, didn't think he was even worth some poor woman's time anyway.

So he made his way home and finished himself off in the shower just to get rid of the sexual tension. He grabbed another bottle of whiskey and disappeared to his room - beer had been working just fine lately but he knew he'd have to try harder to avoid the nightmares tonight after current events.

He was coping as best he could and simply figured this was his life, this is what he'd been stuck with. He was ugly, stupid, damaged, and worthless stuck behind a wall of anger he put up to keep people out. That's it. Having friends and a good woman by his side weren't a part of the hand he was dealt; the one thing he had in this world was his brother and Daryl was content with that. He knew Merle was relieved to see him acting normal and he was happy to put his brother out of his misery, forcing himself to be strong so Merle wouldn't have to put up with the burden of a weak brother anymore.

Things would never get better for him; no, he'd just get better at hiding how bad it was. And Daryl simply learned to be content with what little he did have left.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Review?


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **Hello again! I know I say this every chapter but THANK YOU to all of you who have faved/followed and/or reviewed. Special shout-out to **reedus fan** – thanks to you, this fic now has the highest amount of reviews I've _ever_ gotten for a story. Thank you for all those lovely reviews. All in one day, no less! :)

This is chapter is set about 5 years later, making Daryl 24.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl sighed as he walked through the front door into a dark living room; Merle must have gone out again. He dropped his keys onto a table next to the door and flipped on the light switch before making his way to the kitchen. Opening the freezer, he pulled a frozen dinner from the shelf to heat up. They still had frozen venison from a recent hunt but he really didn't feel like cooking a full meal, he was too tired from work. As the box dinner defrosted in the microwave he pulled a beer from the fridge and popped the cap off, taking a long sip. Daryl never managed to go a night without getting at least two beers down; it was a habit he'd picked up after his father's assault to avoid nightmares. Truthfully, he didn't even know if he'd still have nightmares without drinking but he was going to do everything he could to keep those memories locked away. Drinking was just a habit for him now.

Working construction all day and coming home to an empty house was a regular occurrence these days. Merle found it near impossible to drag Daryl out of the house; he hated being around people any more than he had to. Going to the bar always involved drunk people getting too close or getting pulled into bar fights that Merle usually instigated. Daryl figured he'd had enough black eyes and bloody knuckles to last a lifetime and quit tagging along, much to his older brother's dismay.

Merle thought he got his brother back, the night they traded blows; he thought Daryl's anger would bring him back to life, help him find his way back to 'normal.' But that anger had turned into a thick wall that not even Merle could get past. Daryl wasn't walking around like a shattered, fragile, little boy but he wasn't _living_ either. He didn't make friends, he wasn't interested in women, he barely tolerated people at all. But he could see the loneliness weighing his brother down, even if Daryl couldn't see it himself. And no matter how hard he tried, Merle couldn't get those walls to come down; he could barely get Daryl to leave the house, let alone make friends. And good luck trying to get the boy anywhere near a woman; it didn't take long for Merle to realize sex was out of the question for his brother. But he left that topic alone, it was dangerously uncomfortable territory for the both of them; neither wanted to drag up painful memories.

The woods were really the only place Daryl was willing to go; he'd even tolerate Merle bringing friends along. They were planning such a trip for this weekend – the truck already had their gear, packed and ready to go. Daryl wasn't excited for the trip; he didn't get excited about anything really, but he was looking forward to being in the one place in the world that brought him peace. Even if he had to share it with Merle and his friends. Usually he'd put up with them for as long as he could before disappearing into the woods alone while they got drunk or high.

**-**TWD**-**

The end of the week rolled around and the brothers were headed up north, followed by another truck with three of Merle's buddies – Andy, a tall, auburn-haired man close to thirty; Crystal, a brunette waitress around Daryl's age; and Brian, a college kid younger than Daryl. They made it to the campsite and started unloading everything from the trucks – tents, coolers, and fold-up chairs. The chairs were set up around a fire pit and tents assembled nearby. Once the campsite was set up, Daryl retrieved his crossbow from the back of the truck and moved to head into the woods.

"Where ya think yer goin' little brother?" Merle was disappointed his brother was taking off so soon.

"Was gonna do some huntin' . . ." Daryl was itching to get into the woods and be by himself.

"Why don' ya stay and hang out for a bit? We's gonna have supper goin' soon."

Daryl regarded his brother for a long moment; he really didn't want to stick around. But it seemed like all he ever said to his brother these days was "no." And even though his brother never showed it, Daryl knew his distance bothered Merle, so he figured he could suck it up for one night and humor him. He sighed and nodded, heading back towards the truck to put his crossbow away. Merle grinned and returned to the fire pit to get a fire going while the others pulled food and beer from the coolers.

**-**TWD**-**

Night had fallen and the group sat around the campfire with full bellies and good moods. Daryl was finishing his third beer and had a good buzz going; he wasn't participating in the conversations happening around him. He was bored and wished he could be out hunting but opted for pulling another beer from the cooler instead, figuring he might as well get shitfaced if he wasn't going anywhere.

"Yer so quiet, Daryl. And frowny. Why don't ya crack a smile or somethin'?" Crystal tried drawing him into the conversation. He just shrugged and took another drink of his beer without even looking her way. "Aw, c'mon now. Don't be like that," she was flirting with him. Still, Daryl ignored her until she got up and sauntered towards him with a smirk on her face. Shit, how was he gonna handle this without making a scene? His heart started pounding and palms got sweaty, his eyes darted around looking for an escape.

But Crystal didn't make it past Merle who grabbed her wrist and yanked her into his lap, he was grinning mischievously, his hands finding their way to her ass.

"Where ya think yer goin' little lady?" He nibbled her ear lobe and she giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. Daryl had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and gag but he was grateful his brother intervened.

"Ya really gonna let him cock block you like that?" Andy asked.

"No point fightin' 'im. I'd lose," Daryl shrugged, coming up with a quick lie. Merle laughed, his mouth leaving Crystal's neck but his hands continued to roam under her tank top.

"Damn straight, baby brother. Ain't no one gets 'tween me an' a fine piece a' ass!" He returned his attention to Crystal as Daryl and Andy shook their heads, smirking.

"Get a room you two!" Brian tossed a beer bottle at the pair, startling them out of their make-out session. Crystal grinned and stood up, taking Merle's hand and leading him into the woods for a little more privacy.

"Thank God that's over. I's afraid they were about ta get it on right here!" Brian made a face, clearly grossed out. Andy just laughed and Daryl went back to nursing his beer.

"Ain't nobody wants to see that. But who says they get to have all the fun?" Andy grinned and grabbed a plastic bag sitting next to him on the ground, "Found these while gathering fire wood," he opened the bag; inside was a handful of mushrooms.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl was definitely high. Everything around him was vivid, the colors were bright and sounds of the forest echoed; he was in his own little world. His eyes were transfixed on the fire, tendrils of light danced like solar flares and the flames changed colors. This was definitely a better experience with mushrooms than his first go around fifteen years ago. Well, it was, until he heard it. Growls. Low growls, almost too soft to hear, but his hunter's ears picked up the sound. He tore his eyes from the mesmerizing flames and there it was, staring at him from across the fire, standing at the tree line.

A large, skeletal, canine**-**looking creature with leathery skin; bony spines erupted from the back of its skull, forming a line down its back. The thing had wicked claws and long fangs and its eyes glowed red. _Chupacabra. _Daryl knew what it was; he'd heard the stories of the legendary blood-sucking dogs. Its growls got louder and it started towards him. He was frozen where he sat; Daryl knew he'd never make it to the truck and to his crossbow in time. His heart pounded as the beast started to run, charging towards him with a vicious snarl and leaped over the fire, claws outstretched–

At the last minute he rolled out of the chair to the side, crouching low and covering his face with his arms, waiting to hear the impact but it never came. Opening his eyes, Daryl turned around, eyes searching but there was nothing there. The vivid colors and echoing sounds were gone; the fire had burned down to hot coals and Andy and Brian were passed out in their chairs. At least they weren't witness to his heart attack-inducing hallucination. It didn't look like Merle and Crystal had returned either.

Daryl shook his head and decided it was time for bed. Still drunk and stumbling, he made his way into the tent he shared with his brother, kicked off his boots and collapsed onto his sleeping bag. Never again. Never again would he try mushrooms; that hallucination shit just wasn't for him. Clearly.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl jerked awake when he realized something warm was pressed against his chest. His eyes snapped open and he immediately regretted it when morning light blinded him and caused his head to throb. Crystal was sleeping right next him, an arm thrown over his waist and a knee pressed between his legs. And save for her tank top, she was naked. _Shit. _Daryl's heart thundered in his chest, making his headache even worse, as he tried to extricate himself from her limbs without waking her up. He needn't have worried though; she was passed out from last night's drinking. Once he managed to get some space from her, he was relieved to find himself fully clothed, jeans and all. But he still felt sick to his stomach.

What the hell is with people and _touching_?He really didn't get it; every time someone touched him it made his skin crawl – a poke in the shoulder, a hand on his arm, getting bumped into; he couldn't stand it. Just having anyone in his personal space put him on edge, so waking up with a half naked woman sprawled all over him was a nightmare, not a fantasy. He hated anybody getting that close to his scars; it threatened to bring those dark secrets back to the surface and that just wasn't an option.

Daryl climbed his way out of the tent, skin still crawling, heart pounding, and breathing heavily. His eyes met Merle's who grinned at him from the fire while cooking eggs.

"G'mornin' little brother," he gave a knowing smirk.

"What the fuck, Merle! What is that bitch doing in our tent?" Daryl hissed, not wanting to wake anyone up. Merle just smiled and shrugged.

"She crawled in there on her own accord. I wasn' gonna stop 'er. Thought ya might like wakin' up next to a woman," Merle winked at him, smirk growing bigger.

"I don' want yer sloppy seconds Merle."

"Las' I checked you don' want much a' nobody," his good mood was gone and he couldn't stop himself from biting back. Why did his little brother have to make a big deal outta everything?

"Screw you!" Daryl snapped. He turned on his heel and stalked to the truck grabbing his crossbow and pack of supplies he brought for hunting before heading into the woods like he'd wanted to last night. He'd had enough bullshit and sought peace in the only place he'd ever been able to find it.

Merle sighed. He could feel the rift between him and his brother increasing with every passing moment. They were drifting apart and it seemed as if he could only watch it happen; he had pushed Daryl into building those walls and now even he couldn't get close. And Merle had no idea how to get those walls to come down or if it was even possible. But he did know he wouldn't be the one to fix his brother; all he'd ever done to help only made things worse. His brother was drifting through life, angry and alone, because Merle had been too selfish to let him heal at his own pace, forcing him behind a wall of rage that was now impenetrable.

He sighed again and shook his head; it was way too early for those dark thoughts. Setting the pan of eggs aside Merle pulled two white pills from his pocket and headed towards the tent, sticking one pill on his tongue, the other for Crystal. Having some fun with her would definitely distract his mind from the darkness plaguing it.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed! Review?


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **Hey y'all! I know it's been a bit longer than usual for an update, sorry to keep you waiting. This devil went down to Georgia to hang out with an old friend and chill for a week. No Daryl Dixon sightings though. :( Anyway, here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy! Daryl's around 29 in this chapter.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

The room was nearly pitch black save for a sliver of moonlight streaming through the window. Other than Daryl's soft snoring, it was quiet and peaceful. But a shrill ringing from his bedside table shattered the silence and Daryl jerked awake at the loud noise. He grabbed for the cell phone, knocking empty glass bottles off the table as he tried to get the ringing to stop. Fingers snatched the noisy device, flipped it open, and pressed it to his ear while his other hand switched the lamp on. Not the greatest way to start the day.

"Best be a good reason fer callin' in the middle a' the night," his voice was scratchy from sleep but he still sounded pissed. Daryl had recognized the number for the police station and knew it was Merle calling him from jail; it was becoming a regular occurrence these days.

"G'mornin' to you too, sunshine. Need ya to come bail me out."

"Goddammit, Merle. I got work today, ain't got time fer this bullshit. What makes ya think I got the cash anyway?"

"C'mon bro, help yer family out, I's all ya got."

The brothers still shared the small house they rented when they first came to Atlanta. But even though they shared the same space, they didn't really _live _together anymore. Their inability to come to terms with and properly deal with the baggage their father left them drove a wedge between them – Daryl's anger kept everyone at bay and Merle left him alone, afraid of making it worse than he already had. Their distance pushed Merle farther and farther into drug abuse and those bad habits were starting to catch up to him with the law.

Daryl sighed and rubbed his face. He and his brother may have drifted apart over the last few years but Merle was right, his brother is all he had.

"Fine, I'll be there in a few," he hung up without waiting for a reply and got out of bed to get dressed.

When he finally arrived at the station he learned this wasn't a simple arrest this time. Merle had been caught with multiple narcotics, packaged with intent to sell and was facing serious jail time since he had a record of possession and clearly had no intention of stopping. The law had run out of patience and second chances; now Merle was headed to court. Daryl was so furious he almost left Merle there to stay until his court date but decided against it. He knew Merle would likely be going to prison for this one and figured he might as well let his brother enjoy a few days of freedom. Daryl was pissed Merle got himself into this mess but he still cared about his brother and wanted to help him.

It took a few hours to get everything processed and Merle released. By the time Daryl dropped his brother off at home and headed to work it was near mid-morning; he was very late. He'd called his boss to let him know what was going on but knew he was going to catch Hell for being late again – it was the third time this month. Daryl typically rose before the sun came up but his night-time drinking habits were taking a toll – he'd overslept twice and made it in to work over two hours late. And his boss didn't appreciate having a hung over employee either. Now with the Merle situation making him late a third time, Daryl knew he was walking on thin ice with his boss.

When the end of the day came and his boss called him into his office, the sinking feeling in his gut told him things weren't going to end well. Daryl pulled his hard hat off and put it and some tools away before walking to the trailer next to the construction site. He walked through the front door and into a cool, air-conditioned office where his boss was waiting for him behind a desk and gestured for him to sit down.

"I really hate to have to do this Daryl, you've been a good worker for this company but I'm gonna have to let you go."

"What? Why – cuz I've been late a couple times? I'm jus' dealin' with some shit right now, it won' happen again."

"I'm sorry, it's not up for discussion. You work hard and you learn quick but I need guys I can rely on – construction is deadline driven and I can't make deadlines if my guys don't come into work like they're supposed to. And I need them to be sober too," the man gave him a pointed look and Daryl narrowed his eyes at him.

"Fine. You can jus' go ta Hell then, I don' need this shit," Daryl snarled and stood up before walking out the door and slamming it behind him. He knew there was no point arguing with the man and figured since he was fired it didn't matter if he got pissed and stormed off.

When he got home Merle was gone; he figured he was out getting laid or high, enjoying himself while he could. Daryl knew he wouldn't run, his brother wasn't the runnin' type, not anymore. He spotted a bottle of Jack Daniels sitting on the coffee table and just looking at it made him angry. Daryl was furious with himself for letting things get this far; if he hadn't used alcohol like a damn baby blanket he'd probably still have a job right now. He snatched the bottle from the table and threw it at the wall where it shattered and fell to pieces on the floor. Next he made his way into the kitchen and drained the other two bottles down the sink and tossed them in the trash. He didn't bother getting rid of the beer, figuring Merle would kill him if he got rid of all the alcohol. And Daryl didn't plan to stop drinking altogether; he just wasn't going to use it as a crutch anymore.

Night fell and as Daryl made his way to bed he found himself heading towards the kitchen, the habit so ingrained after nearly ten years of it, and forced himself to his room without a glass bottle in hand. Sleep didn't come as easily but when it did, it didn't bring nightmares with it.

**-**TWD**-**

A month passed before Merle's court date and he partied his last free days away but Daryl kept him out of trouble – no need to add to the trouble he was already in. He would accompany his brother to the bars, keeping an eye on him and stepping in to stop any fights from breaking out or dragging Merle home when he was getting too drunk to stand on his own. Daryl found being the protective brother was an odd role but figured he owed Merle that much.

When he wasn't babysitting Merle, Daryl occupied his time searching for another job. They had been a month ahead on all their bills so he had a little breathing room to find decent work. Options were slim for a decent-paying job that didn't require a college degree but Daryl was determined and he figured he'd work more than one job if he had to.

When the hearing rolled around Merle plead guilty to possession with intent to sell. He knew there was no fighting the charges and opted for a quick trial and lesser sentence. Due to his prior run-ins with the law Merle was sentenced to five years with possibility of parole in three years if it included participation in a rehabilitation program. He also opted to begin his sentence immediately; he would be taken directly to prison from the courthouse but not before saying goodbye to his younger brother.

"Take care a' yerself, little brother," Merle's face was grim but determined, his mouth set in a hard line and shoulders tense. He was pissed he'd gotten himself into this mess – not just for himself, but for his brother too. He was abandoning him, _again_. The monster might be dead but Daryl was all alone, _again_. But he wasn't a little kid anymore, Daryl knew how to take care of himself but it still angered Merle to know he was making the same mistake, over and over again.

Daryl nodded and the brothers shared a brief hug before Merle was lead away in handcuffs. He sighed and rubbed his face before turning and walking out of the courthouse alone.

**-**TWD**-**

A couple weeks passed and Daryl honestly couldn't tell much of a difference between when Merle was around and having him gone. They had drifted so far apart that his brother being in prison didn't feel any different than coming home and thinking he'd gone to a bar. The realization made him feel a little sick and Daryl decided he'd visit Merle as often as he could; he wasn't going to abandon his brother and let him rot in jail. Merle definitely had his shortcomings but Daryl couldn't blame him for them; his brother had done the best he could for him, had tried to take care of him the best he knew how and that was good enough for Daryl.

He found himself a part-time job at a motorcycle shop, working on bikes and another job working at a diner, helping out in the kitchen and cleaning up the dining room, whatever didn't involve dealing with customers. Both jobs kept him extremely busy but it kept a roof over his head and food on the table. But it also meant little time to see Merle since the prison was a couple hours' drive from Atlanta; about once or twice a month he'd manage to visit his brother. Merle appreciated his brother's visits, it wasn't much but it was nice knowing his little brother wasn't just going to forget about him even though Merle didn't think he deserved it; not that he'd admit that out loud.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl grunted as he heaved a plastic tub, heavy with dirty dishes, from off a table and made his way towards the kitchen. The lunch hour had just passed and there was plenty of work to be done before the dinner rush. He approached the swinging door into the kitchen but before he got to it, the door swung towards him and hit the tub he was carrying. The impact knocked it from his hands and it fell to the floor with a loud crash followed by the sound of two other plates hitting the floor and shattering.

"_Goddammit! _Watch where yer fuckin' goin,'" he snapped, crouching down to start picking up pieces of broken dishes and throwing them into the tub, "There's two fuckin' doors to the kitchen – one goin' in, one goin' out. They even got labels if ya know how to read two simple fuckin' words."

"I-I'm sorry, it was an accident," a voice squeaked and Daryl looked up into two terrified blue eyes. It was the new waitress; she was thin and looked to be a few years older than him but younger than Merle. Her hair was short-cropped and prematurely silver. The poor woman was shaking and Daryl was struck with a sudden but brief sense of familiarity – he was all-too familiar with her expression since he'd worn it for most of his childhood.

She knelt down and began picking up the pieces of the two plates she had been carrying out to customers but her shaking hands made it near-impossible and Daryl was afraid she'd cut herself.

"I'll get it. Jus' go deal with yer customers," he mumbled.

Nodding she got up and quickly made her way to one of the few occupied booths in the diner to explain that their food would be out in a little while before returning to the kitchen to have the order remade.

When the end of his shift came Daryl made his way to the parking lot towards his truck but noticed the waitress from before standing near a light post, as if waiting for something, probably a ride. Feeling bad about snapping at her earlier, he approached to apologize. She spotted him from the corner of her eye and gave a small, nervous smile.

"Hey, jus' wanted ta apologize fer before. For snappin' at ya like that," Daryl had his hands in his pockets and couldn't maintain eye contact.

"Oh, don't worry about it. It was my fault, I should have been paying attention; I just do stupid things sometimes," her voice was soft and she couldn't maintain eye contact either. She shifted from foot to foot and she kept looking around nervously, arms wrapped around her middle; it was as if she was afraid to be seen with him.

Both of them heard a car rumble into the parking lot and Daryl noticed her spine stiffen and her hands clenched her arms a little more tightly. He turned and noticed an old yellow Jeep sitting and waiting, a large man in the driver's seat glaring at the two of them; the window rolled down and the man gestured towards the car impatiently.

"C'mon bitch, let's go!"

The woman jumped and started walking towards the car quickly but stopped and turned to Daryl with another small smile but he didn't miss the fear in her eyes.

"My name's Carol, by the way," and with that she turned and made her way to the Jeep before climbing in and shutting the door. The car sped out of the parking lot and into the road, out of Daryl's sight.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **I'd love to see what you guys think! Review?


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Well, here's the next chapter, a little sooner than expected. Hope you enjoy!

**Guest2: **Sorry to throw you for a loop like that! When I began this fic, I did intend for it to stay canon but after doing the shed chapter with their father I felt I deviated too far from canon and decided to make this fic my own. Glad to hear you'll be sticking with the story though! :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Carol's eyes glanced nervously at Ed's hands on the steering wheel; he was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white. The knot in her stomach tightened; she knew she was in trouble. Ed didn't say anything the whole drive home; he kept his eyes fixed forward as his rage grew with every passing second. As his rage grew Carol's fear heightened – she could feel the tension, could see it in his tense posture, angry facial expression, his hard eyes. By the time Ed pulled into the driveway she was shaking terribly. Carol scrambled out of the car and into the entryway of their, no, _Ed's_ house but didn't make it into the kitchen before a large hand grabbed a hold of her arm and spun her around.

"The fuck you think yer doin' talkin' to another man, huh?" Ed growled, eyes blazing.

"I-I-he was just-" Carol didn't get to finish as Ed backhanded her across the face, hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor.

"He was what, huh? _Flirtin' _with you? Don't kid yourself, bitch. Ain't no man gonna put up with you but _me," _his face was less than an inch from hers and both of his hands had a painful grip on each of her arms. "Now git your ass in there and fix me some dinner, I'm fuckin' starvin,'" he pulled Carol up and shoved her towards the kitchen, lumbering after her.

Carol married Ed when she was twenty-three, just a few months shy of graduating from college. She met and started dating him soon after beginning her freshman year in college and it didn't take long for him to work his charm on her – he had been handsome, funny, and sweet. But Carol had been naïve to the red flags – the way he isolated her from friends and family, began to control her; he even convinced her to drop out of college after proposing because she "didn't need college, he was going to take care of her." Slowly but surely, Ed had turned into a controlling, abusive monster and somehow managed to plant it in Carol's head that everything was her fault and she didn't deserve any better. He made her chop all her hair off, threw out all of her nice clothes and forbid her from wearing any makeup.

And Ed hadn't kept his promise to take care of her either. The house they lived in was inherited from his parents after they passed so they didn't have a mortgage but Ed made her work to pay for their other bills. He didn't allow her to drive – dropping her off and picking her up from work in order to make sure she wasn't off doing her own thing. Ed also expected her to come home and provide warm meals and keep a clean house. Carol did her best but her best was never good enough for Ed; she didn't think he'd said a nice thing to her in the twelve years they'd been married. And she was terrified of leaving him; goodness knows how many times she thought of it but every time she stood at the door, suitcase in hand, the fear would overwhelm her and she couldn't bring herself to escape. Carol had nowhere to go and no one to turn to – her parents were gone and all of her friends weren't in contact with her anymore; she didn't think she had any other option but to stay with Ed.

She prepared their supper while Ed stood glowering at her from the corner of the room. When the food was ready, he took his plate to the living room and ate while watching TV. Carol remained in the kitchen, eating her meal alone and in silence before cleaning up the mess from cooking and then gathering dirty laundry from their bedroom to throw in the wash. She didn't hear Ed approaching from down the hall and nearly shrieked in fright when he grabbed her and threw her onto the bed. He grabbed her wrists and held them over her head while straddling her waist; her heart was pounding and she was shaking terribly but Carol didn't put up a fight. If Ed wanted sex it was her duty as his wife to please him, even if she didn't find any pleasure in it herself.

"I better not see you talkin' to that prick again, you hear me? I won't have no whore fer a wife," he growled in her ear. Carol nodded and winced as his grip on her wrists tightened, "Now turn around so I can get this over with."

** -**TWD**-**

Daryl couldn't sleep. He had been lying in bed for a few hours now but still sleep eluded him. He really wished he had some beer; technically there _was_ some in the fridge but he was determined to break that habit. It had cost him too much and he was tired of relying on alcohol to protect him from a monster that could no longer hurt him, nightmares be damned. He hadn't suffered from nightmares or flashbacks in years but had continued his drinking habit out of fear of them returning. But after losing his job and Merle, Daryl had reached his stopping point; he refused to use drinking as a crutch anymore.

Unfortunately it seemed as if his body had grown used to the aid of alcohol to lull him to sleep and now it seemed impossible to get a good night's sleep anymore. Daryl huffed in frustration and turned onto his side, trying to find a cool spot on the mattress. He figured it would take some time but eventually he'd be able to find sleep naturally again; his body couldn't stay awake forever, right?

Daryl tossed and turned for another hour before giving up and rolling out of bed. He turned the coffeemaker on and then headed to the bathroom for a quick shower while it brewed. When he returned, the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of coffee and Daryl set to work making a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon. Normally he didn't cook breakfast, instead settling for a bowl of cereal but since he was up earlier than usual he had time for a hot meal. He actually enjoyed the quiet, early mornings and watching the sky turn from black to baby blue; it was almost as peaceful as being in the woods. There was enough extra bacon to make bacon sandwiches for lunch; he had even gotten up early enough to have the kitchen cleaned up before heading to the diner for the early shift.

**-**TWD**-**

When he arrived the lights were already on and the back door was unlocked; someone else was already here getting the kitchen prepped for breakfast service. He grabbed his apron from the rung he put it on the night before and tied it around his waist before moving to the sink, rolling his sleeves up, and washing his hands. A soft voice called to him from the storeroom.

"Good morning!"

Daryl recognized the voice of the waitress from last night, Carol, he remembered. Apparently she was the other employee assigned to prep work this morning. He walked into the storeroom to start pulling boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables into the kitchen for cleaning and cutting and found Carol balanced precariously on a step ladder trying to pull a box from a top shelf. She pulled too far and lost her balance, toppling backward. Carol barely had time to gasp in fright and brace herself for impact. It never came. Two strong hands had her around the waist, keeping her from falling any farther back and then gently pushed her forward until she was standing on her own two feet again and then the hands were gone.

"Are ya alright?" She knew that voice; it was the man from the night before. "Lemme get that box from ya before ya fall again," Carol was confused until she realized she still had the box of produce held tightly in her hands. Her whole body was frozen, save for her thundering heartbeat wildly beating in her chest as she tried to recover from the near-disaster. The box was pulled from her hands and she snapped out of her fear-induced daze, moving to get down from the step ladder. A warm hand grabbed her wrist and Carol's frightened eyes snapped to Daryl's but his grip wasn't too tight and his face held no anger. It took her a second to realize he was _helping_ her get down, giving her something to hold onto and keep her balance.

"Sorry about that, I'm such a klutz sometimes. Don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here," she smiled sheepishly at him hoping he hadn't noticed the fear. He let go and backed away from her as soon as her foot hit the floor, turning and grabbing the box he'd taken from her to carry into the kitchen. She didn't miss his swift retreat.

"Nothin' to be sorry for, jus' let me do the heavy liftin' from now on. 'Sides, I've taken harder falls out of trees with nuthin' to catch me but stinging nettles. That shit ain't fun," Daryl walked into the kitchen and set the box on the counter before returning to the storeroom to grab another as Carol set to work pulling the food out and getting it washed. He hadn't missed the fear in her eyes when he grabbed her wrist and he certainly hadn't missed the bruise on her cheek either; he was pretty sure he knew what was going on but didn't think it was any of his business to be sticking his nose in. Daryl didn't want to get involved in some stranger's personal problems; he'd dealt with enough of his own in his own life, no sense adding to it. But he also figured he could try being a little nice to her – he remembered how much it meant to him when someone showed concern for his well-being, treated him like a person instead of shit on the bottom of their shoe.

Sub-consciously he sensed a kindred spirit – someone that was lonely and beaten down and he didn't even realize his subtle behavior shifts towards Carol. He wasn't turning into her best friend or anything; he kept his distance, but he tried to keep his temper in check around her instead of snapping at every little thing like he did with everyone else.

Carol knew she should've been avoiding him but a part of her was happy to embrace her rebellious side – it wasn't her fault they had both been scheduled for the early shift and what Ed didn't know wouldn't kill him. Or her. In the half day she'd known him, Daryl had been nicer to her than her own husband in twelve years. She was so unused to a man treating her that way and decided to enjoy the little things life had to offer her. Daryl kept to himself mostly, talking only if he had to but for Carol it was a welcome relief from the way Ed treated her at home with his glowering and nasty comments. The both of them were content with companionable silence.

Carol was humming a little song to herself as she rinsed fruit in the sink while Daryl chopped vegetables at the cutting board. But her little song was interrupted by a string of curses and the sound of the knife dropping to the floor. She turned and Daryl was clutching his left hand, a deep cut on his thumb was bleeding all over the cutting board.

Daryl knew he shouldn't have been handling sharp knives with how tired he was. It annoyed him that when he has the opportunity to sleep, it eludes him but now that he was at work and trying to get shit done, he gets tired and actually wants to crawl back into bed. It was definitely going to be a long day.

"Oh my goodness! Are you okay?" Carol rushed over to him and took his hand to get a closer look but she barely had his hand in hers for five seconds before he wrenched it away and walked to the med-station sink to rinse it off and clean it up. Daryl still hated people getting into his space and especially hated being touched. He didn't think he'd ever get over that. It's one thing to get close to someone to keep them from cracking their skull open on a concrete floor; it's another thing entirely when they get in his face to examine a damn _cut_.

Carol picked up on his discomfort immediately – the way he touched her as little as possible that morning, how he kept his distance, and the brief look in his eyes when he pulled his injured hand away. She knew that look – it was one of distrust. But she knew it was none of her business and instead decided to maintain his boundaries – she would do her best to keep from invading his space. She grabbed bandages from the first aid kit and held them out to him when he finished cleaning his hand.

**-**TWD**-**

"Oh, for heaven's sake! You helped me out this morning, let me return the favor," Carol couldn't stand watching him fumble around single-handedly trying to wrap his left hand and took matters into her own hands, boundaries be damned. She took the roll of gauze and tape from him and pulled his hand away from his chest, extending his arm towards her so that only his hand was close to her. Quickly, she wrapped the limb with the bandages, touching him as little as possible. "There ya go, now put a glove on so we can finish up before the cooks get here."

Daryl was confused by this woman. One minute she's a shy, terrified mouse; the next she's ordering him around and getting in his space while simultaneously maintaining a safe distance. It made no sense to him but he wasn't complaining – it probably would have taken an hour to get his hand wrapped up himself so he sucked it up and let her do it. Afterwards he cleaned off and sterilized the cutting board and threw out the contaminated food he'd been cutting up. They finished up the prep work as the cooks walked in the door. The rest of the day passed uneventfully, the two of them too busy to really pay any attention to anything but the tasks at hand.

Closing time came and with it were sore feet and aching backs. Daryl was finishing up the dishes when Carol approached him again.

"How's the hand?"

"I'll live, I s'pose. Thanks fer the help," he mumbled.

"I owed you one," she smiled at him but he didn't notice, too focused on the dishes in front of him. He didn't really know why she paid him any mind; he was used to people ignoring him but she didn't get on his nerves like everyone else did either. She didn't invade his space for no reason; she didn't mind the quiet and didn't try to talk his ear off like some of the other waitresses when he was stuck doing prep work with them.

The rumbling sound of a car pulling into the parking lot shattered Carol's good mood and her shoulders slumped. Daryl glanced up at the noise and noticed her return to the scared little mouse; he felt his temper flare but pushed it away. It was none of his business. Carol gave him a meek smile and turned to walk out the door.

"Goodnight, Daryl."

"G'night."

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **I'm really nervous about this one. Hope I did the Daryl/Carol interactions justice. Review?


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **Here we go with the next chapter! Thank you all for the love this fic's gotten. It's kind of my pride and joy and I'm happy others love it too. Special shout out to **Rabbitheartedgirl88 **and **Reedus Fan**, you guys are awesome! Thanks for all that you do.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

The afternoon sun was high in the sky, not a cloud in sight. Daryl wiped sweat off his brow; even in mid-September there was no escaping the heat and humidity of a waning Georgia summer, not even in the mountains of the north. He didn't mind so much, he had long since grown used to the outside elements and was simply enjoying his short weekend hunting trip. Daryl made it back up north to hunt about as often as he visited Merle in prison. He'd gotten lucky and neither the bike shop nor the diner had scheduled him for Saturday or Sunday shifts so he took off Friday afternoon after work and headed up north.

He had been up and hunting before dawn and caught the trail of a deer, following it for miles. Now the doe was in his sight and he stalked it slowly, silently, getting closer and closer until it was within range of his crossbow. Daryl took aim and let the bolt fly, quickly reloading when the deer took off in a panic from the pain blossoming in its chest; the arrow had struck its heart. He followed along behind it, waiting for the animal to tire and collapse from the fatal injury. When he finally caught up the deer was on the ground and panting, still struggling to get up. He approached from behind to avoid its kicking legs and drew his buck knife from the sheath at his side before reaching around the creature's neck and slitting its throat to end its misery. It didn't take long to bleed out and the deer went still; Daryl got to work field dressing the animal.

The sun had nearly set when he returned to the campsite he and Merle had made their own so many years ago. He'd taken most of the deer meat back to the large cooler sitting in the bed of his truck and brought just enough back to the campsite for dinner and breakfast in the morning. Once he got a fire going in the fire pit he threw a chunk of meat on the grill along with a foil-wrapped potato he pulled from the small cooler he brought.

There was nothing he loved more than a full belly, a cold beer, and spending the night in a forest looking up at the stars. He was content and as close to happy as he ever thought he'd get. But tonight his thoughts strayed to that waitress at the diner, Carol. It was odd to him that his mind would bring her up – he rarely thought of anything but hunting and tracking while on these trips but there she was, her scared blue eyes flashing across his mind. He sighed, his mood darkening at the thought of what caused that fear – it had to be that damn husband of hers. He didn't even know the man's name, had barely ever seen the guy but Daryl never missed the change in Carol when that yellow Jeep pulled into the parking lot.

Daryl snorted and shook his head trying to dislodge the thoughts about that woman; he didn't need to be thinking about shit like that. He didn't understand why his mind was bringing this crap up anyway; he didn't know why he cared so much about a damn waitress when he'd never paid any mind to another person in his life, except his brother. What made her so different? _She's just like me_. And there it was; his answer.

He snorted again. Yeah, okay, so maybe he could relate to her but he weren't no knight in shining armor, just a fucked up redneck that apparently had issues keeping his nose out of other people's business. Her marriage to that bastard was her business and Daryl would be damned if he spent another minute thinking about it. He just wanted to enjoy his weekend in the forest without dark thoughts ruining his peace of mind.

**-**TWD**-**

Carol was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep the afternoon away after her busy morning at the diner. Her entire body ached from being on her feet all day and carrying trays heavy with food and drink. At least she hadn't dropped or spilled anything, given how tired she was. Unfortunately all that awaited her at home was more work while Ed went off with his buddies to drink and play poker. Carol did relish the fact that she'd be working alone and in peace without Ed hovering over her and growling complaints. She kicked off her shoes as Ed backed out the driveway; she smiled a fake smile and waved goodbye but Ed paid her no mind and took off down the street.

As she pulled food from the pantry to set out for the night's dinner she couldn't help but be reminded of the incident at the diner a few days ago. Carol smiled to herself at the memory of her morning with Daryl; he was pretty gentle for someone as gruff and impatient as he seemed to be. And there was something about him, something familiar in his eyes, but Carol didn't know exactly what. All she knew was that it was nice to be treated with kindness from a man.

Carol shook her head; it was indecent of her to be thinking of another man like that. She's a married woman! Daryl was just a coworker and Ed had warned her to stay away from him. If he knew she had even been thinking about him . . . No, he would never find out but Carol was determined to be the best wife she could be and shook the thoughts of the gentle redneck from her mind.

She turned on the radio to listen to some music as she got to work. The bathrooms were scrubbed to a sparkling clean. She got through two loads of laundry – washing, drying, ironing, and folding before putting the clean clothes away. The kitchen floor was swept and mopped; clean dishes were put away.

Carol decided a short break was in order before moving on to dusting and vacuuming and getting dinner ready for Ed's return. She took a seat on the couch and almost moaned as her exhausted and sore body sank into the soft cushions. She pulled her latest book from off the coffee table, deciding a few pages wouldn't hurt, maybe a chapter if it wasn't too long. Before she knew it, Carol felt her eyelids getting heavy. She was simply too exhausted to resist the pull of sleep and nodded off on the couch for a little afternoon nap.

A door slamming shut had her eyes snapping open. Oh no, what time was it? The house was dark which meant it was well past sunset. Carol jumped off the couch and flipped the light switch on for the living room before going to the kitchen. She turned the light on in there and nearly jumped out of her skin when she found Ed standing in the opposite doorway; Carol could smell the alcohol from across the room.

"Where's my dinner?" he slurred, moving into the room and looking around.

"I-I'm sorry, I nodded off on the couch and-" Carol was backing away slowly as Ed approached; his backhand to her already bruised cheek cut her off. She turned and ran down the hall but didn't get far before Ed caught her and they fell to the floor, his weight knocking the breath out of her.

"So ya decide to be a lazy bitch and now I don't get no supper?"

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, tears coming to her eyes knowing there was nothing she could say or do but she continued to try anyway, "I can still fix you something to eat-"

A sharp blow to the back of her head was her answer as Ed flipped her over and struck her chest and stomach, places that were easy to hide the bruises. Carol tried to shield herself but Ed just grabbed her arm with a bruising grip and continued to knock the breath from her.

When Ed finally stopped and lumbered away to their bedroom to pass out, Carol curled up on the floor gasping for breath and sobbing. She was in so much pain. And all of it could have been avoided if she hadn't taken that break in the afternoon. _Who am I kidding? Ed will always find an excuse to beat me senseless_, she thought bitterly. But Carol didn't see a way out of this; she didn't know anyone she could go to for help. Even if she got the police involved, who's to say they'd believe her? Even with the bruises, Ed could just claim she was clumsy – that man could sell ice to an Eskimo if he wanted to. And where would she go? Where would she live? Surely not in this house, with its _many_ bad memories. Her job at the diner only covered what few bills they had; it wouldn't cover an apartment, a car, and everything else. Carol simply didn't know what else to do and instead did nothing, accepting that there was no other option for her.

Eventually she managed to pick herself up off the floor and returned to the living room. She pulled a blanket from off the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself before lying down and falling asleep.

**-**TWD**-**

It was the middle of the week and Daryl had been scheduled for another early shift at the diner. He was the first to arrive and set to work turning on lights and getting the kitchen prepped for breakfast. After pulling food from the pantry he went to the freezer to pull some cuts of meat to thaw for dinner service. He was near the back of the walk-in freezer when he heard the door click shut and the light went out with it. The freezer was like a refrigerator – the light was set to come on when the door was open and off when it was closed; and it couldn't be opened from the inside either. It was an older model that didn't have the safeties built in like newer ones; the restaurant owner had been meaning to update the freezer but just didn't have the means to do so yet. The old door stop must have failed, allowing the heavy door to swing shut and plunge him into darkness.

_Shit._ He was trapped, alone and in the dark; the situation was uncomfortably familiar. Daryl forced himself to take deep, calming breaths as panic and unwanted memories threatened to overwhelm him. Someone would be here, any minute, and all he'd have to do is make some noise to get them to come open the door. He felt his way through the dark to the door and dropped to the floor, his arms wrapping around his knees; he was trying to conserve body heat. The cold made his joints ache which only further heightened the familiarity of the situation and he had to try a little harder to stay calm. He was shaking and it wasn't only from the cold.

It was less than ten minutes later when he heard noise from the outside. He sprung to his feet and pounded on the door, hitting harder than necessary but he didn't care, he needed out. Now. Thick chunks of ice broke off the door he was hitting it so hard. It took only seconds before he was blinded by light and pushed his way out of the freezer and out the back door. Daryl moved so fast he didn't even see who had opened the door for him; he just needed to get outside and calm down. He was crouching against the wall trying to will those memories back into the cage he'd shoved them in so long ago. _Fuckin' really? It's been over ten years and I'm still dealing with this shit?_ He mentally berated himself.

"Are you okay?" Of course. Carol. She had been the one to open the door and had followed him outside. She was standing a few feet away; keeping the distance she knew he wanted.

"Do I look fuckin' okay to you?" He snapped, he really didn't want anyone around him at the moment but when he looked up to glare at her she had this hurt expression on her face and he felt a little guilty for putting it there. Daryl looked away and put his face in his hands. He just needed a moment, a moment alone to deal with his shit and he'd be fine. Couldn't she give him that?

Carol had been a little hurt by his outburst but when his eyes met hers she understood. Daryl didn't realize how much his eyes conveyed and Carol didn't know she was only one of two people who could read his expressions. She saw the panic and fear and realized there was something more going on under the surface. Maybe he was claustrophobic, maybe he was scared of the dark; she didn't know, but whatever it was had him shaken and he needed a moment to himself. So she turned and walked inside, leaving him be.

Carol knew he needed a little time to himself but it was in her nature to care for others. She got a pot of coffee going and figured by the time it was done brewing it would be safe to return outside. When the coffee was finished Carol pulled a mug from off a shelf and poured the hot, bitter liquid into it and made her way back out the door.

"I thought you might like something a little warm," she held the coffee cup out, offering it to him.

Daryl glanced up and it took a few moments before he accepted the mug from her with a nod and looked away. He hoped she chalked his shaking up to being cold as he took a cautious sip of the coffee. Even though he wasn't looking at her, Carol's face lit up with a big smile after he took the coffee and she went back inside, happy that he had accepted her small offering. Once Daryl finished his drink the shaking had stopped and he stood up to return inside.

Neither of them had noticed the yellow Jeep sitting in the parking lot across the street. Ed always spent the first hour or so of Carol's shift watching from afar, keeping an eye on her. And he was seething – the bitch had disobeyed him. And he definitely hadn't missed the giant smile plastered on her face as she went back inside. _Probably planning on getting fucked over a table by that prick, _the thought had his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel and it took everything he had not to kill the bastard where he sat. No, he'd wait. He was gonna teach that bitch a lesson she wouldn't soon forget.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Oh noes, is that a cliffhanger?Heh heh heh.I _was_ going to go a little farther with this chapter but it would have ended with an even worse cliffhanger and this seemed like a good place to end it. Of course Ed spies on her at work, what else would that bastard do with his time? Something useful? Yeah right! Hope you enjoyed. Review?


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Hello again, I hope you all are well! As usual I'm excited and nervous about this chapter but it's a long one so that's a plus, right? Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl returned inside and moved to wash out the coffee cup and return it to the shelf. Carol was at work chopping vegetables at the cutting board but she stopped when she heard him come in. He gave her a nod of thanks, gesturing towards the cup, and she returned it with a small smile before turning back to her work.

The day was a long one but it went by quickly with all the work needing to be done. Carol kept her distance from Daryl, figuring he wouldn't appreciate her hovering after the morning's events but she caught herself glancing his way more than once. Daryl just focused on his work, trying to get the thoughts of the freezer out of his head so maybe he'd have a decent chance of sleeping tonight. Too bad he didn't know fate had different plans in mind.

**-**TWD**-**

It was well after dark when Daryl finally got off work; Carol had left minutes earlier. Closing time hadn't arrived yet but it was after the dinner rush and he was exhausted from the long day. He was glad for it though, given the morning's events, he was afraid of what his mind might torture him with in his sleep but the long day had worn him out and he was sure he'd sleep alright. After cleaning up and putting his apron away he made his way out the back door and towards his vehicle. Daryl had the door to his truck open and was about to climb in when he heard a commotion coming from around the corner of the building.

"The fuck I tell you bitch?" The sound of a fist hitting flesh, followed by Carol's unmistakable voice crying out, had Daryl closing his door and walking in that direction. He couldn't see it yet but when he turned the corner what he saw had his blood running cold.

Ed had Carol pinned against the Jeep, a hand around her throat. Tears streamed down her face, she was bleeding from a swollen lip and her blouse was torn open; Daryl didn't miss the fading bruises on her torso. Ed's other hand fumbled with his pants; once he was finished getting them open he drew Carol's face towards his and snarled at her.

"Ya wanna act like a whore, then I'm gonna fuckin' treat you like one."

"Please Ed, don't do this. I'm sorry," Carol whimpered; even from where he stood Daryl could see she was shaking.

But Ed ignored her pleas and his free hand pulled a blade from his pocket before moving to hike up her knee-length skirt, the knife point skimming her thigh. Carol's eyes were darting around frantically until they landed on Daryl. Their eyes met and the panic and horror he saw in hers had him seeing red; he knew that face, he'd worn it once before. The anger he'd been trying to shove away exploded to the surface and he started shaking with fury.

He approached quickly and grabbed Ed by the shoulder, spinning him around before landing a solid punch to his face, sending Ed to the ground. Daryl pounced and Ed tried to land a fist to Daryl's right eye but yelped when his knuckles met metal instead of bone; Daryl smirked. He continued to throw hard punches as Ed flailed and slashed at him with the knife before Daryl knocked it away. Daryl's left hand wrapped around his throat and his right pounded Ed's face, over and over again. At some point he quit seeing Ed; instead looking down at a long-dead monster whose laughter he could still hear ringing in his head. He couldn't stop; he _wouldn't _stop, not after he felt his knuckles break, not after he felt Ed quit struggling. He wanted the monster dead. But a small hand grabbing his wrist halted his movement and he turned to look at a sobbing Carol.

"Don't kill him," she pleaded and Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. She was defending this prick? Almost as if reading his thoughts, Carol shook her head, "I-I called the cops. I d-don't want you getting in trouble, not for me. Not for _him_."

Daryl felt the fight leave him, he stood and moved away from the unconscious man; Carol still hadn't let go of his hand and moved with him. They were both shaking and Carol's legs couldn't hold her up any longer. She sat down heavily on the cold asphalt and then, noticing the state of her blouse, wrapped her arms around her front trying to maintain some dignity as her face turned red. Daryl moved to walk back towards his truck but her voice stopped him.

"You're not leaving are you?"

"Nah, I'll be right back." He moved his truck around the corner and parked it close to where Carol was sitting before pulling a jacket from behind the seat. Without looking at her, he offered the jacket as she stared at him in surprise before taking it. It was a heavy work jacket, the kind construction workers wear, and she was nearly drowning in it. But she was happy to be able to cover herself and relished the warmth of it.

"You can sit in my truck if ya want. Prob'ly more comfortable," Daryl mumbled.

Carol gave him a small smile and took him up on his offer and climbed into the passenger seat to sit and wait until the police arrived. She couldn't believe this was happening. The thought of what had nearly happened to her almost made her sick; she was still shaking and had a few stray tears roll down her cheeks. And a glance at Daryl had her feeling even worse. What had she dragged him into? She felt terrible that he had to interfere and was now a part of this mess. And she was embarrassed that he was witness to her shame, even though she was eternally grateful Ed had been stopped.

Daryl leaned on the driver's side door, arms crossed around his chest. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of painful memories and questions. What had he gotten himself into? Was he going to jail for beating the shit out of that prick? He would have killed the bastard had Carol not stopped him. The entire situation hit close to home but he was glad she hadn't been made to suffer as he had. He didn't regret interfering.

The sound of sirens pulled them from their thoughts and Carol stepped out of the truck, wiping the tears from her face. They stood in front of the truck as the police pulled into the parking lot and parked, Ed still lay on the ground but he'd started moaning, slowly coming back to awareness. Carol approached the advancing officers but Daryl stayed by his truck glaring at them; he'd only ever known to be wary of officers, not trust them.

"Good evening, Ma'am. I'm officer Rick Grimes and this here is my partner officer Shane Walsh," Shane nodded at her politely, "Would you mind telling us what happened here tonight?"

"My husband, he . . . he needs medical attention," Carol hated calling Ed her husband and getting him help but she couldn't very well leave him lying bloody on the ground, it simply wasn't her nature. Rick nodded and Shane went back to the cruiser to call for an ambulance before turning his attention to Ed, applying basic first aid until the paramedics arrived.

"And who did this to your husband, Ma'am?" Rick asked, his eyes glancing towards the angry redneck still standing next to his truck. Carol was quick to tell the whole story, how Ed attacked her after she got off work, was going to do worse until Daryl arrived and stopped him, that he was just trying to help her. Rick took careful notes and asked a few follow-up questions before moving to talk to Daryl and get his statement. By then the ambulance and paramedics had arrived and were loading Ed onto a stretcher and into the van. His face was a swollen bloody mess and a couple of broken teeth were left on the asphalt.

Rick approached Daryl and introduced himself, asking what had happened. Daryl talked about getting off work and getting ready to go home before he heard a commotion and came around the corner to see what was going on. He told Rick what he heard Ed say and the state Carol was in and how he stopped Ed before he went any further.

"Mighta got carried away but that fucker deserved it. Carol stopped me, said she'd called you guys. Din' want me gettin' in trouble for murder," Rick nodded and glanced towards an approaching Carol.

"Being an officer of the law, I do have to uphold it," Daryl's stomach sank, "But it looks to me like the only guilty party here is the one in that ambulance. Now, maybe you shouldn't have beat him senseless but between you an' me, if I found a man doin' that to my wife, you can bet he'd be dead unless somebody stopped me," Rick gave a small smile and Daryl disliked this cop a little less. Rick turned to Carol, "Are you going to be pressing charges?"

Carol hesitated; the weight of those words weren't lost on her. Was she finally going to stand up to Ed? Was she finally going to quit being the scared little mouse, afraid of her husband's shadow?

"Yes," she nodded. And that one simple word made her feel . . . _free_. A terrible weight lifted from her shoulders. She was finally free of Ed and Carol couldn't help the happiness bubbling up from that thought. After tonight she wasn't going to stand and take Ed's punishments anymore; she was going to put him away where he belonged.

"Alright then, well, I think I've got all I need for now. I'll be in touch with the both of you," Rick tipped his hat to the both of them before returning to his car with Shane. After they left, Daryl and Carol stood there awkwardly, neither really knowing where to go from here.

"I guess we should call it a night then, huh?" Secretly, Carol didn't want to go home, she didn't want to be alone, not after what had just happened. Ed's attack tonight revealed just how monstrous he was and it had her shaken to her core in a way none of his past abuses had shaken her.

"I s'pose," Daryl mumbled. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight. The day's events had drudged up way too much painful shit and he knew his subconscious was just waiting to torture him with it. And secretly, he didn't like the idea of Carol being alone right now; after everything he could guess she was pretty shaken up. But he figured he'd invaded her business enough for one night and turned to get into his truck.

"Thank you," She said it softly but he heard it and turned around. Her head was down and she was wringing her hands. Carol glanced up at him with a small smile but her eyes betrayed her nerves, "Thanks for helping me, I mean." She couldn't let him leave without thanking him for what he'd done.

Daryl nodded and continued towards his truck as Carol moved to the driver's side of the Jeep. But she couldn't bring herself to touch the handle; she just stood there, staring at it. This was Ed's Jeep, she could smell him in it, could imagine it growling at her if this was a ridiculous cartoon. She wanted nothing to do with it – how many times had she climbed in, terrified of a beating that was sure to come? And now she had to drive it? Sit where he sat, hold the steering wheel he held, and touch the door he touched? No, she'd rather walk and was about to do so when Daryl's voice stopped her.

"Do ya need a ride or somethin'?" He just watched her stand there and stare at that Jeep like it was going to bite her and wondered if she even knew how to drive. Before he even knew what he was saying, he found himself offering her a ride; Carol's eyes snapped to his and he didn't miss the relief in them before he looked away.

"You wouldn't mind? You've done so much-"

"Hop in, it's gettin' late," Daryl interrupted her. Carol was very relieved she didn't have to walk all the way home and quickly climbed into the passenger side of the truck. The ride was silent save for Carol mumbling directions. Neither really knew what to say; Daryl just focused on driving, and Carol just dwelled in her own thoughts.

Daryl finally pulled into her driveway, chewing on his thumbnail and staring straight ahead, waiting for Carol to get out. Carol glanced at him and was about to thank him again when she noticed the state of his right hand. His knuckles were busted and swollen, the blood had since dried but some was still trickling from the open wounds on his knuckles.

"Goodness, Daryl, your hand! Why didn't you have a paramedic look at it?"

Daryl glanced at his hand as if noticing it for the first time before shrugging in reply. He didn't know why she cared; he was still pretty much a stranger to her.

"Come on, let's go inside, get a better look at it and get it cleaned up," those words nearly had him choking on the air he was breathing. Go inside? With her? _Alone?_ He swallowed hard. Is this woman crazy or what? Her _husband_ nearly murders her in a parking lot and here she is inviting him into her home and she barely knows him!

"It'll be fine, had worse," he mumbled. But Carol wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"It's the least I could do Daryl, after everything you've done for me," she fixed him with pleading blue eyes and for the first time, certainly not the last, Daryl found himself powerless to say no to them.

"_Fine._ But quit lookin' at me like I'm some hero. I ain't," he grumbled, getting out of the truck and following her into the house; Carol smiled at the small victory.

**-**TWD** -**

After rinsing his hand off in the sink Carol directed him to the living room while she got some bandages and cleaning supplies from under her bathroom sink. She also changed into more comfortable clothing, a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a large T-shirt so she wouldn't have to wear his coat all night. Returning to the living room she set the supplies on the coffee table, his jacket over the arm of the couch, and sat down, careful not to get too close, remembering his desire for space. Daryl was so uncomfortable; he couldn't help but feel like he was invading her space somehow, as if he didn't belong here. He'd never visited someone else's house before; he didn't get to do the sleepover thing as a child and he'd never been interested in the "adult" sleepovers either. It just felt weird to him, being in someone else's house so the sooner she got this shit over with, the better. He held his hand out as she tore open a package of alcohol wipes to clean the cuts with.

"Sorry, this is going to sting a bit," the look he gave her clearly indicated he'd dealt with worse before he glanced away. She could tell he was uncomfortable and decided to get this over with; she held his hand steady with one hand under his palm and the other wiping gently at the knuckles. His hand barely twitched at the contact and he didn't even flinch. Not once did he give any indication of pain and simply sat still and quiet. It unnerved her a little and she started talking.

"I . . . I almost wish I let you kill him . . ." she murmured softly; he glanced at her, surprised. "I was, _am_, so angry at him for everything he's done and a part of me wanted him dead," he could feel her hands tremble and both of them wondered why she was telling this to him. But Daryl just listened; if she wanted to talk, he'd let her – not like he was going to bed any time soon. She continued talking as she wrapped gauze around his hand, "But I couldn't . . . I couldn't let you carry that burden, to kill another man . . . It wouldn't have been right to let you do that."

_Too late, _Daryl thought bitterly. He'd already killed a man but it wasn't a burden on him to rid the world of that monster. But maybe it was best if he kept the kill count down to one; he certainly didn't want to go to jail for some fucked up prick like Ed Peletier. And he didn't want to get used to spilling that kind of blood either.

"I really can't thank you enough for what you've done Daryl. If you hadn't shown up when you had . . ." her hands trembled again and her eyes were shining with tears as she looked at him but he just couldn't maintain eye contact; it was almost painful to look people in the eye for too long, he felt exposed. "I'm just sorry you got dragged into all this-"

"Stop. Stop bein' sorry fer shit that ain't yer fault," his eyes met hers again and she was a little taken aback by the ferocity in them; she glanced down and nodded. Both of her hands grasped his one; they rested on her knee and she found herself picking at the bandages she'd just finished wrapping. It didn't take him long to pull his hand from hers but her eye caught something else.

"Oh my God, you're bleeding!" Carol gasped, pointing at a dark red stain blooming across his side.

Daryl flinched at the sudden noise and jumped up, hoping he hadn't gotten any blood on her couch. He hadn't even felt the wound until Carol pointed it out and now he could feel his shirt sticking to his skin across his lower back and around his right side. Carol reached for the hem of his shirt to pull it up but a firm grip on her wrist had her looking up at Daryl.

"_Don't,_" his eyes were dark and cold; his grip a little too tight. She felt his hand tremble and she'd be lying if she said his expression didn't scare her. Gently she pulled her hand from his and nodded with wide confused eyes. "Bathroom?" His expression had relaxed a tiny bit the moment she pulled her hand away.

"Just down the hall, to the left. I'll get some more bandages," Carol got up to retrieve said supplies from her master suite bathroom as Daryl retreated down the hall and disappeared into the guest bathroom.

Hands full with supplies Carol approached the bathroom and pushed open the slightly closed door. She found Daryl with his shirt pulled up, examining the damage in the mirror. She nearly dropped the supplies in shock; what little bit of skin he had exposed was marred with horrific scars, _man-made _scars, she knew. She couldn't stop the small sound from escaping her throat and Daryl jumped, eyes snapping to hers and pulling his shirt down. His eyes flashed with anger as he snatched the medical supplies from her hands and growled at her to get out. Carol retreated quickly and he closed the door, restraining himself from slamming it. _Fuck. _He didn't want anyone seeing those scars but somehow he managed to be stupid enough to leave the goddamn bathroom door wide open. His hands shook as he pulled his shirt back up and tried to deal with the wound Ed had given him.

Carol sat on the couch trying very hard not to think about what she had just seen. Clearly having someone glimpse those scars was like striking a raw nerve in Daryl; someone had hurt him, badly, and he didn't want anyone to know about it. But Carol couldn't stop herself from wondering about them; who put them there, why, who could have been that cruel? It hurt her to think someone could have been so cruel to a man that had only ever shown her gentle kindness. But she also knew it was none of her business – she had no right to ask those questions and she could only learn about those scars if Daryl chose to share that information with her, which she highly doubted he ever would. And she didn't blame him – what little she had seen had given her a glimpse into why Daryl was the way he was, acted the way he did. She understood now why he was so familiar to her, why she understood him despite not really knowing him – _he was just like her_.

"Carol?" His soft voice drew her from her thoughts and she glanced up at Daryl who was standing in the doorway looking highly anxious. "I . . . I need your help."

He would have rather jumped off a building than ask for help but she'd already seen them, there was no taking that back. The cut was too high up on his back for him to be able to reach it so he sucked it up and asked, praying she wouldn't ask any questions; Hell, he just hoped she wouldn't say anything at all. Carol nodded and stood up leading him back to the kitchen where she could work with more room and better light.

Daryl leaned over the counter to give her better access to his back but only held his shirt up just far enough to reveal the open wound. Carol got to work cleaning it up. She didn't say anything, didn't ask any questions, and did her best to focus on the one wound she _could_ help him with instead of staring at the many ones she _couldn't_. Carol knew he was extremely uncomfortable letting her get close; she could both feel and see the tension in his back and shoulders, he had his head turned away and his hands were clenched into fists.

His skin was crawling and he just felt . . . _exposed_. He never wanted anyone to see or know what had been done to him; he didn't want to see the pity or disgust, he just wanted to be left alone. But it was too late for that now; Carol had seen, she knew. Carol felt terrible, being the cause of his discomfort, well, the cause of this whole mess, so she worked as quickly as she could, touching him as little as possible.

"All finished," she straightened up after placing the final bandage and Daryl did the same, letting his shirt fall back down. He definitely couldn't look at her now and moved to leave but her hand on his arm stopped him. Daryl had to forcibly turn his head and look at her, fearing what he'd see.

"I understand," she wasn't looking at him with pity or disgust; he could see sadness but mostly he saw understanding. Of course, it dawned on him, of course she understood – she knew he'd seen her bruises, he'd seen the monster that was her husband that very night, he'd very nearly been witness to a brutal attack; _she was as exposed as he was_. But he was the only one freaking out about it.

"My father, he-" Daryl choked, his throat constricting. He _couldn't_ talk about it, not yet. Maybe not ever. Carol was surprised at his attempt; she knew it had to be difficult for him to even try but she sensed he'd reached his limit.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," she whispered. "But if you ever want to, I'll listen." Her voice was gentle and calm, soothing to his nerves and he was relieved she didn't push.

Daryl nodded and his eyes met hers once more, she smiled gently and he gave a nervous smile in return before making his way towards the entryway to go home.

"Wait! You forgot something," Carol called out to him from the kitchen; he waited by the door as she retrieved whatever it was and walked to the entryway. "Your jacket," she said, handing it to him, "Thanks for letting me borrow it," she smiled.

He nodded again wondering if he'd gone mute but managed to say goodnight and returned to his truck. Daryl didn't leave right away, he just sat in his truck a little dumbfounded at the turn of events this evening took. Did he just make a friend?

Carol heard his truck rumble to life a few minutes after sitting down on the couch. She was curled up with her book and a blanket, ready to forget the world for a little while before sleep claimed her on the couch; she was never going lie in that bed she shared with Ed again. A small smile graced her lips as she heard the sound of Daryl's truck fade away. The turn of events was certainly unexpected but maybe she'd just made her first friend in twelve years.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **I think this chapter rambled a bit but I just couldn't find it in my heart to break it up. Hope things didn't seem too rushed or out of character, can't help but be nervous because I want to do them justice and write the development of their relationship well. The event with Ed is kind of a catalyst for their relationship and I figured that event would lead to a lot of progress between them in a shorter amount of time. But they still have a long way to go.

Don't get too used to Rick and Shane, I just figured if I'm going to have cops in this fic, why not use them? But so far I don't have any plans to keep them around.

I'd love to read what y'all think! Review?


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Oh hey look, another chapter! Hope you like.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

When Daryl finally got home he was completely and utterly _exhausted_. His hand was aching; back was stinging, and he was mentally and emotionally drained. He dropped his keys by the door and kicked his boots off before making his way straight to his room without turning any lights on. Tossing off his bloody shirt and kicking off his jeans, Daryl collapsed on his bed, asleep before his head hit the pillow.

_He was trapped in the dark; he couldn't move, couldn't see, could barely breathe. His skin felt like it was on fire – it stung and burned like it always did after a belt beating. The Devil's laughter echoed around him and cold fear washed through him. _No, not again. Please not again. _Rough hands traced his scars and suddenly that laughter was in his ear, a quiet cackle that warned of what was to come._

Daryl snapped awake, drenched in sweat and heaving over the side of the bed. Thankfully he hadn't eaten anything; otherwise it would've been a puddle on the floor. Acid burned his throat and he threw his legs over the side of the bed, his face in his hands; he was trembling. _Goddammit. _He should have known better. After everything that went down yesterday he should have known that nightmare was coming. He really wanted a drink and was about to go to the kitchen to grab a beer (or five) but he stopped himself in the doorway. He wasn't going to go running back into old habits because of a fucking nightmare. No, he'd learn to deal with it, one way or another. Not right now though, going straight back to sleep wasn't an option even if he had only gotten about an hour's worth; he knew he'd just fall into another nightmare and needed to distract his mind from those haunting memories before trying again.

Instead he got dressed and went outside to work on the bike, tuning it up, changing the oil, keeping her shiny and clean. The motorcycle made an excellent distraction and so did his crossbow, looking it over and making sure it was still in good working order; he checked his arrows for split shafts and loose arrowheads, tossing out the broken arrows and replacing the heads if needed. His hunting knives were cleaned and sharpened as well. By the time he was finished with those his mind was good and empty. It was close to noon, maybe between now and the nightshift at the diner he could get a few hours of sleep.

**-**TWD**-**

Carol thought reading a book would help her sleep but she was wrong. She tossed and turned on the couch only managing to doze off a few times before jerking awake. Ed and horrible memories were everywhere in that house, in every shadow, in every creepy noise; echoes of the past haunted her. She swore she could still hear him snarling at her for some silly mistake she'd made; she could almost hear her own cries from his torment. Carol hated that house and it only took one night of trying to sleep in it before she came to the conclusion she wouldn't be staying there. When dawn arrived Carol gave up on sleep and made her way to the bathroom for a shower before getting dressed and calling a cab to take her to the hospital.

She signed in at the reception desk, asking where Ed was before making her way to the elevator and ascending to the floor he was on. She stood outside his room for many minutes gathering the courage she'd need to see this through before opening his door and walking in. Ed's face was a sickening sight; the whole left side was swollen, purple and black bruises discoloring his skin. She also noticed he was handcuffed to the bed.

"The fuck you want?" he growled at her; his speech was mumbled and sluggish but his good eye still held a mean glare. Carol steeled her resolve and kept a calm face.

"I'm here to set some things straight with you."

"Ain't nothin' to set straight you stupid-"

"We're getting a divorce," Carol cut him off. And damn it felt good too. She continued before he could pick his jaw up off the floor, "But before I file for divorce, I'm selling that house and trashing everything in it."

"You ain't got the right-" he snarled, lunging for her but he couldn't move much. Carol stood her ground but she had to fight to keep that calm mask over her face; she couldn't stop her hands from trembling and balled them into fists at her side.

"We're married Ed. What's yours is mine and I'm doing what I want with it; you're going to jail, you don't need it," her throat was getting tight and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes as she continued, "You've taken . . . almost _everything _from me . . . and I let you. But not anymore. I'm done with you and this sham of a marriage you duped me into."

"You can't do this, Carol!" He snarled again. She was shocked at the use of her name and would have sworn she could hear a tinge of desperation in his voice. Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"I can. And I will. Goodbye Ed. See you in court," and with that she turned and left. She could hear Ed yelling all the way from the elevator.

Carol returned to the waiting cab and slid into the backseat before breaking down into tears. That was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. Carol wasn't just setting things straight with Ed, she was letting go of the last twelve years of pain. She was admitting to herself that her marriage was a failure and she had wasted her time ever trying to make it work. And that was a hard, painful thing to admit – twelve years is a lot of time to waste on somebody. There was no love lost with her husband but Carol couldn't help but mourn what could have been had she not wasted her time with him.

"Are ya okay, lady?" The cabbie asked. "Did ya lose someone?"

"No, I-" a small smile graced Carol's face, "I let somebody go." She was proud of herself for confronting Ed, terrified as she was. Even if she had wasted the last twelve years with that bastard all she could do now is move forward with her life and rebuild. "Take me back to the house, please." The cabbie just shook his head and did as the lady asked.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl and Carol both could have had the entire day off given the previous night's events but neither could afford to lose a day and opted for the night shift instead of working the morning shift they had been scheduled for. Carol was hard at work in the dining room serving customers, carrying trays of food in and out of the kitchen. She was happy for the distraction of hard work even though her feet and back didn't much appreciate it. Daryl was stuck in the back doing dishes through dinner service.

"Here's the last few," Carol said, setting a short stack of plates next to the sink. The last customer had finally left and they could get to work closing the diner for the night.

"Fuckin' _finally. _Din' think it was ever gonna end," Daryl sighed.

"Do you want to have dinner?" Carol asked; Daryl almost dropped the plate he was holding.

"What?" He choked, glancing at her briefly.

"Do you want some food before the kitchen shuts it down for the night?" Carol almost giggled at the flustered look on his face before clarifying what she meant; she did smile though. It was a little soon to be asking a man to dinner since she wasn't even divorced yet. She was just hungry after the long night and didn't think it would hurt to ask if he wanted anything too.

"Oh, uh . . ." his stomach rumbled and Daryl realized he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday, "Sure, could use a bite to eat."

"Hey Lafayette?" Carol called out to the fry cook.

"Yeah, baby doll?" He drawled; he wasn't flirting with her, it's just the way he talked. Lafayette was a tall, well-built black man who liked to wear jewelry and a little make-up. He was flamboyant and charming but he could also put assholes in their place; Daryl had seen him do it on more than one occasion. Daryl knew Merle would have a conniption fit if he found out he worked with a gay black man but he'd be damned if Lafayette wasn't the best fry cook this side of the Mason-Dixon. As long as Lafayette didn't try to put the moves on him, Daryl didn't mind him.

"Think you could scrounge something up for us before shutting it down?"

"You got it, darlin,'" he winked at her before turning back to the grill.

Daryl finished up what few dishes he had left while Carol stacked chairs on tables in the dining room. Lafayette finished up their food and set their plates at a booth.

"Thank you Lafayette, we'll get the kitchen for you," Carol smiled at him.

"You got it, girl. G'night," he kissed her cheek and made his way out the back door after waving goodbye to Daryl who nodded at him.

Daryl and Carol both flopped into the booth, exhausted from yet another long day. The hot food had their mouths watering and they dug in. Carol wasn't even half-way finished with hers when she noticed Daryl's plate was completely empty.

"Wow, you must have been hungry! When's the last time you ate, a week ago?" she joked.

"Lunchtime yesterday," he answered seriously.

"What? You shouldn't go that long without eating, Daryl," Carol was a little shocked at the admission; she would have passed out going that long without food. He just shrugged at her and picked at his napkin.

"Gone longer than a day and a half before; ain't nothin,'" he mumbled, eyes on his hands. The look in his eyes told her there was a lot more to it than that but she didn't push and simply kept nibbling on her meal in the tense quiet.

"I went to see Ed today," Carol said when she couldn't stand the silence anymore. Daryl's eyes snapped to hers, they flashed with anger and she could tell he was about to ask what the fuck she was thinking. "I told him we were getting a divorce and that I was getting rid of that house and all his stuff. It felt good," she smiled; Carol did feel proud of herself for confronting him and she just wanted to share that accomplishment with someone.

Daryl didn't really know what to say, anything that came to mind just sounded shallow or insincere. Secretly, he was proud of her too and a little jealous; he wished he'd had the balls to stand up to his daddy when he was younger. Too late for that now though, so he pushed that thought away.

"Ya got some brass talkin' to the bastard that tried to kill ya last night, Carol," Daryl smirked. She figured that was as close to a compliment as she was going to get and smiled sheepishly.

"Don't know where it came from . . . I just wanted to set some things straight with him," she mumbled. Daryl stood and grabbed their now empty plates to take into the kitchen.

"Maybe it was always there an' ya just din' know it 'til now," her head snapped up to look at him but his back was already to her as he disappeared into the kitchen.

**-**TWD**-**

He cleaned up the kitchen while she finished up the dining room. Carol finished cleaning tables off and putting chairs up before vacuuming crumbs off the floor. Daryl put the rest of the dishes away and scrubbed down the grill and swept the floor. She flipped off all the lights and they made their way out the back door and locked it up for the night.

Carol was so tired and she hated the idea of walking home but she couldn't afford another cab ride and she didn't want to inconvenience Daryl again.

"Need another ride?" he noticed the only other car in the parking lot was Ed's Jeep and figured she'd walked here this afternoon. He also figured she'd be too afraid to ask him for a ride. Daryl snorted at the thought – she was brave enough to confront Ed after last night but too afraid to ask him for a ride; this woman was crazy.

"It's okay, Daryl, you don't have to-"

"Let's go woman, your house ain't outta my way," he was lying but she didn't know that.

"As long as you don't mind . . ." She smiled timidly and followed him to his truck.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **I could have easily made this another 4,000 word chapter but the second half of it didn't seem to fit so I'm splitting it up. The good news is that means the next chapter has a good chunk of it already written. Plus I wanted something a little lighter after that long, _intense _chapter. I hope you liked it and you know I'd love to see your thoughts.

**P.S. **If you don't know who Lafayette is, I weep for you. He's a brilliant character from True Blood and I couldn't resist borrowing him just this once.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **Wow, 3 chapters in one week? Call me butter 'cuz I'm on a roll! I know, I'm lame but I love lame jokes. I'm excited for this chapter; there are a lot of moments I seriously love.

Thank you all so much for reading and the reviews/follows/faves mean the world to me. Seriously, you guys rock!

Hope y'all enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl pulled into her driveway and parked, waiting for Carol to get out. When she didn't climb out after a few moments he glanced at her. Carol was just staring out the windshield, looking sad and lost.

"I hate that house," she murmured. Daryl didn't know what to say and kept silent, chewing on his thumbnail; this was a little uncomfortable for him but it's not like he was gonna kick her out of his truck. "Nothing but bad memories and I swear I can, you're gonna think I'm stupid but . . . I swear I can still hear him and all the nasty things he said to me . . ."

"Ya ain't stupid, Carol . . ." she looked up at him and it seemed as if he was about to say more but he stayed quiet.

He still couldn't share his pain with her. It scared him – Daryl had spent his entire life alone, both rejected by and hiding from people; Hell, he'd tried to hide from his own brother. Daryl didn't really know what compelled him to want to share with Carol but fear and shame kept his throat tight. Maybe they _could_ relate to each other but he couldn't help fighting that magnetic pull because he simply didn't understand his desire to trust her with the darkness of his past. Other than Merle, Daryl had never trusted anybody in his life and it scared him that he was so drawn to Carol, so quick to want to share things that he'd tried to forget about. He just wasn't ready to take that step so he went in a different direction.

"I got a tent if ya want it."

"What?" Carol didn't follow the shift in conversation.

"Ya hate livin' in that house so much; I got a tent you can use. It's small, can go anywhere, rainproof. Not bad livin' if ya don't mind pissin' in a bucket," Carol was staring at him, dumbfounded, and she thought he was being dead serious until she noticed the quirk of his lips.

"Daryl Dixon, did you just make a _joke_?" Carol was smiling now and they were both glad for the break in tension. He glanced at her and smirked; Carol laughed and opened the door to the truck, climbing out. "You are something else, Daryl," she shook her head, still smiling. "Thank you for the offer but the only way I'd live in a tent is in the event of an apocalypse. I think I can survive for a bit until I find an apartment," she grinned at him and he snorted, his eyes returning to the windshield. "Thanks for the ride, goodnight!" Carol closed the door and he nodded at her. She walked inside smiling; the good spirits he put her in helped those dark shadows shrink a bit. Daryl didn't back out of the drive until she got into the house and closed the door.

**-**TWD**-**

Carol was surprised to find Daryl's truck sitting in her driveway the next day. She was just getting ready to leave for work and when she walked out the door, there he was; waiting. Carol couldn't stop a smile from forming and walked to the truck, opening the door.

"Are you stalking me, Dixon?"

"What? No, uh, I was jus-" Daryl stammered, his face turning red; Carol cut him off.

"It was a joke, Daryl," she giggled before climbing in.

"I checked the schedule las' night and noticed we worked the same shift again so I figured I'd give ya a ride . . ." Daryl didn't mention that he already knew when his shifts were.

He wasn't ready to share his past with her but that didn't stop him from wanting to be around her. Subconsciously, he was drawn to the friendship he'd stumbled upon with Carol; after having been alone for so long he couldn't resist the first real positive interaction he'd had with another person.

"Thank you. You're too kind," Carol said. She didn't know what to make of this thoughtful, kind man; it had been a _long _time since anyone treated her this way. If she thought about it, even Ed hadn't been this nice when they first started dating. But Carol was simply grateful for the turn her life had taken recently and she was especially grateful for whatever brought this gentle redneck into her life.

"Ain't nothin,' jus' bein' practical," Daryl mumbled, embarrassed by the praise. He put the truck in reverse and backed out of the drive.

It wasn't until they got to the diner and Carol climbed out of the truck that she noticed a motorcycle tied down in the back. Daryl dropped the tailgate and climbed up, untying the straps from the bike before carefully rolling it out of the truck and onto the pavement. It was a difficult task with only one person but he managed to get it in there on his own, he could get it out just fine too. He got the bike parked next to the truck and pulled the truck key off his key ring before handing it to Carol.

"Here."

"What? No, Daryl, I couldn't. You've done enough, really; you don't need to give me your-"

"I ain't givin' it to ya; you're borrowin' it 'til you can get somethin' of your own. And I'm not arguin' with ya either so take the damn key before we're both late for work."

"Thank you, Daryl," Carol whispered softly, taking the key from him. She wished she could give him more than a severely inadequate two-word phrase; she was determined to figure out something but settled for following him into the diner for now.

**-**TWD** -**

Several weeks passed and the court date for Ed's trial was finally nearing at the end of October. Carol had kept herself busy working at the diner and clearing out the house, room by room, to ready it for selling while also looking for an apartment.

Currently she was working another nightshift with Daryl and they were close to finishing up. She walked into the kitchen with a few more dishes and noticed Daryl was standing at the corkboard with the schedule posted on it. She could have sworn he was standing there ten minutes ago too so why was he still staring at it? Approaching, Carol noticed tension in his shoulders and when she could see his face, she could read the frustration, clear as day.

"Something wrong with the schedule?" Daryl jumped when she spoke, so focused on trying to read the schedule he hadn't noticed her approach.

"No, I uh, I was um . . ." Daryl stammered, face going red before muttering, "Never mind," and walking away to finish the last of the dishes. His behavior and response made something click in Carol's head and she followed him to the sink; she knew she had to tread carefully.

"Daryl, do you . . . Do you know how to read?" This time the plate in his hand _did _slip out of his grasp and fell back into the sink with a big splash, sending water and soap bubbles everywhere. Daryl wanted to snarl at her and tell her to mind her own business but kept himself in check; he didn't need to be treating her the way Ed did.

"'Course I do . . . I'm jus' . . . slower at it; like I'm stupid or somethin,'" he mumbled quietly. It killed him to admit it and he expected her to laugh at him. He was looking at the sink, hands gripping the edge of it; his face was about as red as it could get and he just wanted to disappear. But Carol didn't laugh; she placed a gentle hand on his arm and used her other to pull his chin so that he was facing her but his eyes remained downcast.

"Look at me," she spoke gently. It took several minutes but he finally looked up when he realized Carol wasn't going anywhere until he did; his eyes met hers and she almost looked angry. "You are _not _stupid and I don't ever want to hear you say that again. You're brain just works a little differently, is all. Everybody has things they're good at and things they're bad at; things they can do quickly and things that take them forever. Me? It takes me _forever_ to do the simplest of math problems; I still count on my fingers! Does that make me stupid?"

"No," he mumbled.

"No, it doesn't. And you're no different Daryl. You just need not be afraid to ask for a little help, okay? I will never laugh at you," Carol smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief, "Well, I won't laugh at you for _that _but I _will _laugh at the ridiculous bubble hat you've been sporting for the last few minutes!" And she did, a sweet laugh escaped her throat as Daryl swiped at his hair to get rid of the pile of bubbles that landed on his head. Embarrassed as he was, he was grateful she changed the subject so quickly.

"Food?" Carol asked when she regained her composure; Daryl nodded.

It had become a habit for them to take their breaks together and on nightshifts that included a meal before the kitchen shut down but Carol always asked. Sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't; they just enjoyed the company of a new-found friendship.

Lafayette had their plates hot and waiting at the booth before he took his leave. They each took a seat and dug in to the delicious food. Daryl never failed to finish his food long before Carol did; eating quickly was just a habit bred from going hungry too many times. And he _never_ left food on a plate.

"How's the apartment search goin'?"

"Good, I think I found a decent one I can afford and it's nearby. I'll be going there this weekend to sign the lease and do all that fun stuff. Still gotta lot of work to do on the house; got everything but the master bedroom and big furniture cleared out. But the house needs some work – repainting, minor fixes, deep cleaning, that sort of thing," Carol sighed, "But I'll get it done, one way or another."

"I can help ya with that stuff, make it go quicker."

"Oh, no, that's okay you don't have to."

"Din' you jus' get done tellin' me to ask fer help if I needed it?" Daryl pointed out; Carol couldn't argue with that but still, he'd already done so much for her.

"You've already done so much, I don't know how I'll ever repay you . . ." Carol mumbled. Daryl took a moment to think of something she could help him with.

"Well . . . you could help me find somethin' decent to wear for the trial. Ain't got any nice clothes . . ." Daryl _did _need something nice for the trial since he'd be testifying against Ed along with Carol. He didn't want to be on the witness stand in a t-shirt and torn up jeans. Carol's face brightened at the prospect of actually being able to help him instead of the other way around.

"Sure, I can do that for you. Won't even need to drag you to a mall; I bet I can pick something out that fits perfectly," it was true – Carol had an eye for clothes. Not once in the twelve years she was married to Ed did she have to ask for his size in anything before buying it; she knew what would fit, what wouldn't, what would look good and what didn't. She could do the same for Daryl.

"Deal. I help ya with the house, you get me new clothes."

"Deal," and they shook on it. Carol didn't think it was a very fair deal but she was happy to be able to do _something _for him. Daryl thought it was an extremely fair deal – he hadn't the faintest clue of what decent clothes were for a trial; decent for him was a pair of jeans that didn't have holes in them yet so he was very happy to have that off his plate.

With their meal finished, they did the last of their duties before closing the diner and bidding each other goodnight.

**-**TWD**-**

"This is stupid, I look ridiculous," Daryl huffed tugging at the collar of his button up shirt. Carol had him dressed in dark grey slacks, a black leather belt, white shirt, and dark blue tie. He was so uncomfortable.

"Daryl you look fine," _very fine; _Carol blushed at that thought and quickly shoved it out of her mind while also wondering where it came from.

The day of the trial he agreed to meet her at the house so he could get changed and they would drive together. Carol was spot on with her clothing selections and had to help him with his tie – he'd never worn one before and after the trial he knew he'd never wear one again.

"And if you resist tearing those sleeves off I won't make you wear the suit jacket," Carol teased. But she did have to admit that even though he looked handsome in a suit, she preferred his rugged look more.

"Fine. We ready to get this shit over with?"

"I think so," Carol nodded and they made their way out the door and to his truck.

The course of the trial dragged through a few months but by the end of the year, Ed had been found guilty and sentenced to ten years in prison for his attack and attempted rape of Carol. During the months of the trial Carol got herself moved into an apartment and filed for divorce. She had been too busy to finish work on the house and still had yet to go through the master bedroom save for grabbing some clothes to take to her new apartment. But now that the trial was over and her divorce to Ed was in the works Carol was ready to tackle the last piece of her marriage to Ed. As promised, Daryl was there to help.

**-**TWD**-**

Carol was working in the closet of the master bedroom, pulling stuff down from the shelves and taking Ed's clothes off of hangers and dragging it all out the back door and to a makeshift fire pit Daryl had dug for her. Daryl was in the adjacent guest room replacing old and torn up screens on the windows. He heard a yelp and a crash coming from the closet and rushed in to see what happened.

"What I tell ya about heavy liftin'-" Daryl started but the words died on his lips when he spotted Carol. "Are ya alright?" he was afraid she'd gotten hurt.

Carol was sitting on the floor, tears streaming down her face, and sobs forcing their way out of her throat. A small box was tipped over on the floor, spilling its few contents; she held what looked like a photograph in her shaking hands. Daryl stood there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do. Did she want to be alone? Carol noticed his presence and tried to wipe away her tears but they just kept coming; she gestured for him to come closer. Daryl carefully stepped over the box and sat down next to her glancing at the photo in her hands. He couldn't make it out, it was black and white and blurry, like a television that lost its signal; he could only see shapes but he didn't know what they were.

"This is my daughter," Carol had a watery smile on her face. "It was too early to tell the gender but . . . I just knew it was a little girl." Realization dawned on him; she was showing him one of those ultrasound photos pregnant women get of their baby. "I thought . . . I thought he'd be happy . . ." Daryl's stomach sank and new tears streamed down Carol's face and it took her a few moments to compose herself again. "I didn't tell him until after going to the doctor and getting this picture. I was so excited, I always wanted a baby," her breath hitched again and her face darkened. "But he was furious; said he didn't want kids, started yelling and throwing things . . ." another sob escaped. "I don't remember much after that except waking up in the hospital and the doctors telling me she-telling me she w-was gone." Carol's face broke again and she sobbed; it was agonizing for Daryl to watch – he'd never seen pain like this.

Carol had shoved that little box to the deepest darkest part of the closet; afraid of what Ed would do with it if he ever found it. As she started pulling stuff from the shelves, it had come tumbling down; when she spotted it, waves of bone-deep _hurt _and the most painful of her memories came rushing to the surface. She mourned the loss of her daughter every day but seeing all the little things she'd squirreled away brought the pain back up to the surface. Looking at the one and only photo of a child she never got to meet was extraordinarily painful but she cherished that picture. Losing her baby was the worst pain Carol had ever gone through and she couldn't stop that pain from bubbling back up with heart-wrenching sobs.

Daryl really had no idea what to do, what to say; Carol's pain was tangible and it had his own chest constricting. He couldn't stand it and just wanted to ease her pain somehow when a thought struck him. Standing, he left the closet and walked outside, leaving a confused Carol sitting by herself but he returned shortly with something in his hand.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"A flower?" Carol had no idea where he was going with this.

"It's a Cherokee Rose," Carol still looked lost. "They bloom on the Trail of Tears. Legend goes that they bloom for mommas that lost their babies," Daryl was looking at the flower while telling the story, too nervous to look her in the eye, "Kids died and went missin' all the time – starvation, exposure, disease; their mothers cried and cried for 'em. The tribe Elders wanted to give them hope and prayed for 'em. These flowers started bloomin' along the trail and they're s'posed to be a symbol of hope," Daryl finally looked at her and put the flower in her palm. "This one was growin' in your yard . . . and I think it bloomed for you and your little girl."

Carol was astounded. Absolutely astounded. Never in a million years would she have expected that; Daryl had blown her away. How did he manage to find the right thing to give her? The right words to say? Once again his eyes held the answer – someone had taken something precious from him too. Fresh tears welled up and Carol grasped the flower tightly. The sight of tears had Daryl afraid he'd done something wrong until Carol jumped up and threw her arms around him, so overwhelmed with emotion she forgot about his boundaries. He tensed up and just stood there but made no move to pry her off.

"You don't know what this means to me, Daryl," she let go and stood back, staring up at him with a small smile on her face. "Thank you."

He nodded and they stepped away from each other. Daryl retreated from the closet and went back to fixing the screens on the windows. Carol knelt down and repacked the small box, gently placing the flower on top until she could get it preserved in the pages of the baby album she'd bought. That small box was the only thing in the spacious walk-in closet she wanted to keep.

**-**TWD**-**

Once she had hauled all of Ed's clothes and other belongings to the fire pit she doused them in lighter fluid; before she could reach for the pack of matches nearby Daryl had one lit and held it out to her. She couldn't read the expression in his eyes but, whatever it was, it was dark; Carol took the match from him and tossed it onto the pile then took a step back as flames roared to life.

She had been free of Ed for months now; picking up the shattered pieces and building a new life. But watching the last of his things go up in smoke and crumble to ashes lifted the remaining darkness from her shoulders and Carol felt lighter than she ever had.

Daryl stood a few feet behind her watching the flames as well. It was subtle but he caught the lift in Carol's shoulders and knew she had let go. She turned to him and smiled. He didn't know what it was but something about her face, her sparkling blue eyes and sweet smile, the warmth of the fire on her skin; it was the first time he looked at a woman and saw something beautiful.

He returned her smile with a small half-smile of his own but it didn't reach his eyes.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Yes I breezed through the trial because that crap is boring as fuuuuck and it didn't serve any purpose to this fic to include all the details. But hey, Ed's going to prison, so yay for that! Maybe he'll run into Merle. ;)

This chapter had so many cute moments in it; I had to balance that out with some serious angst. But now you know why Sophia's not in the story if you were ever wondering about that . . . Yeah, Ed's a real douchecanoe and he needs to run into a shank. Several times.

Hope you enjoyed. Review?


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **Welcome to the next chapter, I hope you enjoy. :) You know I appreciate everyone who is reading this fic and I seriously love the faves, follows, and reviews. This is the longest fic I've ever written and it's also gotten the most reviews. I'm 16, _sixteen_, reviews away from 100 and that's something I've strived for for a very long time. Thank you guys, _so much._

**Rabbitheartedgirl88:** You know I can't thank you enough – if not for your little spark of inspiration, this fic would not exist. You're awesome, I love you and I love Caryl fangirling with you. :) This chapter's for you because there are a couple little things I know you're bound to love. ;)

**Jofrench22: **Wow, you read the whole thing in one setting? That must have been . . . intense, ha ha. Well, welcome to the party, glad to have you and thanks for reading.

**GuestSmiling: **I love including little things from the show and that joke was irresistible! Glad you're liking the fic.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Carol turned back to the flames to watch them die out into smoldering embers. Daryl approached slowly and stood beside her watching the fire as well. Carol glanced at him and she could tell he wasn't really looking at the fire, his mind was somewhere else. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes held the thousand-yard stare.

"My daddy was a mean old bastard . . ." Daryl started. Seeing Carol in the closet, hearing about her baby, and seeing the extraordinary pain she'd been put through was a massive blow to the walls Daryl put up. Seeing that pain struck him to the core; it was deep and raw and _excruciating_. Just like his own. Daryl finally understood why he was so drawn to her and willing to trust her in a way he'd never trusted anyone else before. Those walls weren't crumbling down to the ground just yet but there was a good crack.

"Momma died when I was eight; Merle, my brother, he left soon after that. He couldn' take it no more so it was jus' me an' the old man," Daryl's eyes never left the fire and Carol remained silent, simply listening just as she promised those few months ago. "He was always drunk, always findin' excuses to beat me with a belt . . . I got real good at gettin' blood outta carpet . . ." Carol flinched at that statement; she could relate. "Don' know why I stayed for so long . . . too much of a fuckin' pussy I guess," Daryl growled, it was the first time his words had any emotion and Carol didn't miss that the anger was directed at himself and not his father.

"But when he put an arrow through my shoulder and beat my face in so bad I was in a coma for two fuckin' days was 'bout the time I decided I'd had enough," Carol couldn't stop a gasp from escaping her lips or tears forming in her eyes; how could anyone be so _cruel_, especially to their own child? Still, she said nothing, continuing to listen. "Me an' my brother high-tailed it outta that shithole town and never looked back . . ."

It wasn't the whole story but Daryl wasn't about to talk about the shed; no, he didn't think he'd ever tell Carol about that. For the time being, he was done sharing. His eyes dropped to the ground and he began to fidget, suddenly nervous. He'd put trust in another person and now he was feeling vulnerable. Did he share too much? It was painful, sharing those things, but he also felt better somehow, like a weight had been lifted. He didn't know what to expect from Carol; he just hoped he hadn't made a mistake in telling her about his past.

Her heart was aching, every beat a painful throb of emotion. It ached for Daryl and what he'd been put through and she knew that what he told her wasn't even the tip of the iceberg. Carol wanted to take that haunted look out of his eyes and show him something _good _in this world; she didn't realize she had already begun to do just that by being his friend. She was at a loss for words; Carol didn't think he'd appreciate pity and that's not really what she wanted to show him anyway. She knew he'd see the sadness in her eyes but she wanted him to know it was from empathy and compassion, not pity. Given how nervous and fidgety he was, Carol realized she needed to do _something_ before he took her silence as rejection.

Turning to him she placed both of her hands on his crossed arms and stared up at him until his eyes met hers. She could see his fear and his desire to run away, back behind those walls. Carol wanted him to understand that he had nothing to fear from her; she wasn't going to reject him.

"I'm not going anywhere," she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. And he could see the truth in them. He could see sadness but he could also see understanding and acceptance; just as he had when she caught a glimpse of his scars. It soothed his nerves and he relaxed a bit; Carol was relieved to see the shift. He knew she wasn't going anywhere, she wasn't judging him, or feeling sorry for him; she was simply _there. _And she understood in a way no one else could.

Slowly, she pushed his arms down until they were uncrossed. Carol continued to stare up at him as she inched closer, making sure it was alright; she saw confusion but he didn't move away and he wasn't tensing up. Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around him, placed her ear against his chest, and gave a gentle squeeze. Carol was telling him what words couldn't; he didn't want to hear "I'm sorrys" so she didn't say them and instead showed him something even better. She was showing him that she cared and reaffirming that he could trust her with more when he was ready to.

It took several minutes but Daryl returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head. He was willingly accepting her presence in his space and for the first time in almost his entire life, he was okay with letting someone get close to him.

**-**TWD**-**

When they finally moved apart nothing was left of the fire but hot coals and wisps of smoke. Daryl was glad for the darkness; it hid the pink in his cheeks. He was a little embarrassed about the display of affection and wasn't sure where to go from here. But Carol didn't have to see his face to know he was feeling awkward; she figured he probably wasn't used to such displays and would feel a little uncomfortable about it.

"Why don't we finish up inside, have some dinner, then call it a night?" Carol was quick to move on to safer subjects in order to help him get past the awkwardness.

"Sounds good," Daryl replied, following her back into the house. He was relieved Carol didn't make a big deal of things; she knew when to move on from a sore subject and she did it with an almost effortless grace that put him at ease.

Carol called in Chinese takeout while Daryl loaded the last few boxes of her stuff in the back of his truck to take to her apartment. What little furniture she decided to keep had already been moved; the rest was shoved into the entryway, waiting to be taken to the dump since it was too large to burn out back. Once the food arrived they sat on the living room floor eating it straight out of the containers. Carol was trying, and failing, to hold back a laugh at Daryl who was struggling to eat with chopsticks. Finally he lost his patience and started stabbing at the sweet and sour chicken until he had three chunks of meat skewered on the chopsticks.

"Having trouble?" Carol giggled. Daryl glared at her and bit a piece of chicken off the 'skewer.'

"No wonder them fuckers are always so skinny; can't eat a damn thing with these stupid sticks," he growled, taking another bite. Carol just laughed and shook her head managing to eat her own meal just fine without resorting to stabbing.

"Looks like we got most everything done today, all that's left is touching up the paint. Think we can do that tomorrow?" Carol asked.

"I uh, I can't tomorrow. Goin' to visit my brother . . ." Daryl started playing with his food, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh, okay. Another time then," Carol was curious about the brother she just learned about but figured Daryl would share in due time so she kept her questions to herself. Daryl was eternally grateful that she didn't push him to share things and let him take it at his own pace. He'd already revealed a lot today and really didn't want to get into his brother being in prison. Daryl wasn't ashamed of Merle but he couldn't help fearing Carol's reaction to learning he was incarcerated.

They finished their meal in silence before shutting off all the lights and making their way to the vehicles parked out front. Daryl followed her to the apartment on his motorcycle then helped carry the boxes up to the second floor of the building.

"Just set them on the floor in the living room, I'll get them where I want them later."

Daryl set the boxes down and took a look around. He'd been in the apartment before, helping Carol get what little furniture she had dragged in but now he wanted to see what she'd done with the place. The first thing he noticed was two large bookcases filled to the brim with books.

"Like readin' huh?"

"Yes, I've always been a bit of a bookworm . . . And when I was with Ed, he never really let me go out or do anything so reading just sort of became an escape, y'know?" Carol stood next to him, eyeing the collection, fingers brushing the spines. Daryl nodded, he knew a thing or two about needing to escape from the world but he chose the forest and hunting and nature; that was his escape.

"We weren' allowed ta have books in the house . . . Dad said I din' have much use for 'em anyway since I was too stupid to read . . ." Carol scowled; she couldn't help the anger forming towards a monster she'd never meet. "But I liked books when I was younger, my grandpa would read me stories when he took me an' Merle out huntin,'" Daryl smiled at one of the few good memories he had. Images of sitting around a campfire completely enamored with the tales his grandfather shared flashed through his mind.

"Would you like to read one?" Carol had plucked a book from the shelf and held it out to him.

She was heartbroken from everything he'd shared and she was determined to reverse the damage his father had done; she couldn't take away those scars, she couldn't take away the pain of beatings or going through life unloved but she _could_ bring him the joy of reading again. That was something she could do for him. Daryl took the book from her hands and glanced at the cover; S.E. Hinton's _The Outsiders_. He flipped through the pages of the book and Carol noticed his shoulders sink in disappointment.

"It's gonna take me forever to read this . . ."

"Hey, it's not a race; you can take your time. And I'm here to help you, remember?" Carol took the book from his hands and walked over to the sofa then patted the cushion next to her as she sat down. "Tell you what, I'll get you started on the first chapter and whenever you're done reading we can sit down and watch the movie."

"Can't we jus' go straight to the movie?" Daryl grumbled, taking the offered seat on the couch.

"Nope," Carol replied, pulling her feet up and under her before opening the book and reading the first chapter to Daryl.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl sat at a small metal table waiting for Merle to arrive. It wasn't long before his brother appeared in the doorway leading to the cellblock. He had lost weight while in prison and he had dark circles under his eyes but he still looked like a mean sonofabitch that shouldn't be messed with. Merle made his way to the table and sat down.

"Hey baby brother, good ta see ya again," Merle grinned at him.

"Hey, how ya been?"

"Bored as fuck, as usual but stayin' outta trouble so I ain't stuck here for five years. What about you? That trial thing over yet?" Daryl had told Merle about having to go to court to testify a few visits ago.

"Yeah it's over. The prick got ten years. Fucker should be dead if ya ask me but at least he's outta Carol's hair now," Merle didn't miss how dark Daryl's eyes got just talking about the guy.

"Carol, huh? That the lady you've been sweet for baby brother? She give ya a thank you fuck yet?"

"What the fuck, Merle?! You're a sick bastard," Daryl snapped, getting red in the face. Merle laughed, getting his baby brother riled up was too easy and a lot of fun; plus it took the dark look off his face. "And I ain't sweet on her neither, we's jus' friends . . ." Daryl muttered.

"Bro, us Dixons don't do _friends_ with women; we fuck 'em, that's it. Ain't nothin' good ever comes a' bein' more than a one night stand for a Dixon," Merle snorted, thinking about how well things turned out with their parents.

"Well, it ain't like that. And it ain't gonna either," Daryl couldn't deny caring about Carol but he didn't see her that way; he didn't think she'd ever see him that way either. And he didn't know why that thought disappointed him.

"Whatever you say, little brother, whatever you say," Merle smirked. He loved giving Daryl a hard time but he hadn't missed the changes in his little brother since he'd been locked up. It wasn't anything specific, all of it was subtle, but Merle could read his little brother like a book and he seemed . . . _better_ somehow. Merle didn't know what that woman was doing but he could tell it was having a positive effect and he was happy for his little brother, even if he'd never admit it. "So, am I gonna get to meet the little lady or are ya afraid I'll steal 'er away from ya?"

"What?" Daryl choked. Bring Carol here? To meet his brother? "Merle, I don' wanna bring her here . . ." he knew his brother wouldn't like hearing that. Merle's eyes narrowed and his hands formed fists.

"Why not, huh? Ashamed a' me little brother?" Merle growled.

"No, I ain't ashamed!" Daryl snapped. "I jus' don't think it's a good idea to bring her to a prison, is all . . ." he knew if he told Merle that he hadn't told Carol he was in prison Merle would definitely think he was ashamed and that wasn't the case. Daryl just didn't want to throw more on her plate than he already had and even though she reassured him, he still couldn't help being afraid that something he shared with her would send her running away.

Merle knew his brother wasn't telling him everything but he could tell he was being sincere about not being ashamed of him so he let it go.

"Looks like our time's about up, little brother," Merle said, glancing at the clock. He knew a guard would be coming soon. Daryl saw the clock and knew his brother was right.

"Guess I'll be seein' ya again soon. Take care a' yourself, Merle," Daryl gave him a sad smile and stood up; Merle stood as well.

"I will. Ya best give some thought to bringing yer lady here little brother. I don' wanna show up in a couple years and find out she don' know about me," Merle was teasing but there was seriousness to his tone that Daryl picked up on.

"I'll think about it Merle," Daryl nodded; he knew he couldn't delay the inevitable.

"Alright Dixon, let's go. Up for some chow?" An officer summoned Merle and he turned away.

"What's on the menu today, more cat food?" Merle smiled. He still hated cops but he knew he was better off developing a rapport with them than making trouble for himself. It could come in handy if he got into some trouble.

Daryl knew what Merle was doing and grinned to himself before turning and walking out of the visitor's area to leave the prison and go home.

**-**TWD**-**

A few months passed. Carol had finally gotten Ed's house on the market and it sold very quickly. It was actually a nice house and Carol hoped it would be a good home for the people that bought it but for her it was nothing but a place of terrible memories and she was happy to be rid of it. She took the remaining money from the sale and donated it to a shelter for abused women and children; Carol didn't want any part of the profits from selling it.

Currently, she and Daryl were sitting in her living room on either sides of the couch. He was on the last few pages of _The Outsiders _and she was waiting patiently for him to finish so they could watch the movie. Occasionally, she'd help him with a word or phrase if it was giving him trouble but the farther along he got in the book, the less he needed her help. Carol was impressed and had a feeling that reading wasn't his issue, his confidence was. She was willing to bet that his anxiety towards reading is what stumbled him up more often than not.

Daryl did get letters mixed up and had to focus a little harder than most but he'd improved drastically since Carol started helping him. With someone actually encouraging him and using positive reinforcement, it allowed him to approach reading with less anxiety. As he turned to the final page of the book, Carol got up to go make popcorn and get the movie ready.

When she returned with a large bowl in her hands the book was on the coffee table and Daryl had a small smile on his face; he was proud. Carol grinned with pride and flopped onto the couch, pieces of popcorn flying everywhere.

"Congratulations, you finished it!" Carol was beaming at him.

"Yeah, it only took me three months . . ."

"Daryl you've made a _ton _of progress and you should be proud. And I told you, it's not a race," Carol chastised gently. He nodded; his face pink but he still had a small smile. "Now, let's watch the movie so I can ogle Patrick Swayze," Daryl snorted and grabbed the remote to press 'Play.'

The end credits were still rolling when Daryl snapped awake; he'd drifted off towards the end of the movie. It wasn't boring but he was tired from a long week and couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. But he was definitely awake now, something was wrong. His eyes drifted to Carol who had also fallen asleep, she was curled up on the other side of the couch with a blanket wrapped around her.

He inhaled deeply through his nose; smoke. It was drifting in through the open windows of the living room. Carol had opened them to let in the spring breeze but now smoke was drifting in and Daryl could hear sirens in the distance. He turned off the television and nudged Carol's shoulder.

"Carol, get up. We gotta get outta here," Daryl tried softly; she didn't respond. "Carol!" His voice was louder and more urgent. She jumped awake, gasping; her groggy mind thought it was Ed yelling at her and it took her a second to realize where she was. Daryl saw the fear in her eyes and he felt bad for putting it there but right now they didn't have time to deal with it. "There's a fire, we need to get outside," he was standing and Carol was awake now, she stood and slipped on some sandals, keeping the blanket around her shoulders.

They made their way through the door and to the stairs. Daryl stopped in his tracks and, after making sure Carol was going down the stairs, turned and went back into the apartment.

Carol made it outside and a safe distance from the apartment building when she turned around and noticed Daryl wasn't behind her. Where was he? Where'd he go? Panic gripped her when she realized he could still be inside. The fire department had already arrived set up a barrier to keep people back. Carol frantically waved down an officer to tell him that her friend was still inside but then she spotted him.

He was walking quickly with something under his arm. As he got closer Carol recognized it instantly and the breath left her chest. It was a small box and she knew what would be in it; her most prized possessions, the only things she cared about losing – the only stuff she had left of her daughter. Tears sprung to her eyes and not even the officer could stop her from ducking under the yellow tape and sprinting towards him. Carol slammed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"_Thank you_, thank you so much . . ." Carol had to try very hard to keep from breaking down into tears, "How did you even know where to find it?" She still hadn't let go of him and she was still reeling from yet another unexpected kind gesture; this man was full of surprises.

"Lucky guess," Daryl shrugged; he figured she'd have it in her closet again and he was right. A firefighter approached them. Daryl glanced at him but Carol hadn't noticed; her back to him.

"Guys, you need to get away from the building, it's not safe."

Daryl nodded and looked back down to Carol to pry her arms from around his neck but suddenly a pair of soft lips met his own in a quick kiss and he dropped the box in shock. His spine stiffened and he jumped away from Carol, too dumbfounded for words. She looked as shocked as he felt. His face turned bright red and he made his way towards the yellow tape and ducked under it. Carol picked up the box and followed him back behind the yellow tape and to his motorcycle which he was mounting.

"Daryl wait!" Carol hadn't meant to kiss him, not on the lips anyway. She was just so overwhelmed that she couldn't resist a peck on the cheek but he'd moved his head unexpectedly with clearly disastrous results.

Daryl was shaking and in shock. The last contact they had was that hug by the fire a few months ago. Sure, she could get closer to him than any other person but she rarely touched him and that kiss, well, it was too much. Too unexpected. _Too close. _He heard her calling out to him and, as much as he wanted to run away, he waited to see what she had to say. Carol caught up to him but resisted placing a hand on his arm; she knew that would be a wrong move at the moment.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking . . ." Carol didn't know what to say and tears streamed down her face. She really hoped she hadn't messed things up too badly with him. Daryl couldn't stand seeing her cry and, frankly, he was pissed at himself for freaking out about something so small.

"Don' cry . . . it's alright," Daryl could barely glance at her he was so embarrassed with himself. Carol sniffled and looked at him hopefully. "I'll jus' blame it on Patrick Swayze getting' ya all hot and bothered," he joked, trying desperately to get away from the heavy mood. It worked, Carol couldn't stop the laugh from escaping and she doubled over as she continued to laugh. She was so relieved she hadn't done irrevocable damage to their friendship; Daryl grinned but he still couldn't look at her.

**-**TWD**-**

Early morning was dawning when the firefighters finally got the blaze put out. They had managed to keep it from spreading so Carol's apartment only had smoke damage but the entire building was being shut down until the cause of the fire could be determined and the building could be refurbished. Carol was devastated; she had nowhere else to go. Ed's house had been sold, no other apartments were in her price range and she didn't have anyone to stay with. She looked at Daryl and forced herself to swallow her pride.

"Guess I'll be borrowing that tent after all," she mumbled, looking at the ground.

"What?"

"You offered to let me borrow a tent when I told you I hated Ed's house. I guess I'll be needing it now . . ." Her shoulders were slumped and she looked utterly _defeated._

"Nah, you can stay with me," Daryl had no idea those words were coming out of his mouth until after he'd said them. _What the fuck are you doing, Dixon?! _They were both staring at each other with matching expressions – wide eyes and mouths open in shock. "Uh, I mean . . . um, if ya want to and don' got nowhere else to go . . ." _smooth move, jackass. _His face was redder than she'd ever seen it and his eyes were glued to the ground.

"You'd really do that for me?" She whispered. Carol thought she should be over getting surprised by this man but it never stopped her from actually being surprised when he did something so nice for her.

"If ya need help, jus' ask," he echoed her words and Carol smiled a watery smile, thanking whatever it was that put this man in her life.

"I'd love to."

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Did you like that moment at the end? I sure as Hell did. :D

Fate is going to put those two together, zombies or no, heh heh heh. That was the plan since getting rid of Ed but I didn't want Carol to immediately move in with Daryl. She had just gotten out of an abusive relationship and I thought she could use some time as an independent woman. Granted, she's only had about eight months on her own but she dealt with a lot of stuff in that time (the trial, the house, moving, etc.) and I didn't want to drag it out forever. I hope it doesn't feel too soon but I did my best. Besides, those two living together is going to be a lot of fun!

And I didn't see myself bringing Merle back into the story once I put him in prison but it just didn't feel right leaving him out and I do like the idea of him and Carol meeting someday. ;)

Review? I'm _sixteen _away from 100. Pretty please?


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **You guys . . . are so amazing. Thank you, each and every single one of you, so much for getting me to 100 reviews and beyond. It means the world. :)

**Crossbow22: **Yes, this is an AU with no zombies. And yes, I have plans for Merle but that's all I'm saying for now. ;)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl's heart was pounding furiously in his chest and it only got worse the closer they got to the house. What had he been thinking, opening his big mouth like that? Clearly he wasn't thinking because if he was he would have never opened it at all. Despite the work he and Merle had put into it, the house was still crap; it wasn't anything nice to look at and it could use some serious updating or just a full demolition and rebuild. Definitely a downgrade for Carol, given her old house with Ed and the apartment – those were both newer and better kept. And where the hell was she going to sleep? Daryl mentally slapped himself when that thought occurred to him. In Merle's room? _Fuck. No. _He shuddered at the thought. And that couch in the living room was about as comfortable as a bed of nails to sleep on. _Shit._ What had he gotten himself into?

He pulled into the driveway and rolled the bike under a lean-to that he and Merle added to the house to keep the bike out of the rain. Carol pulled in behind him driving the truck and killed the engine before getting out. She could see the tension rolling off him in waves and a sinking feeling appeared in her gut; did he regret offering to let her stay? Daryl was standing next to the front door but he hadn't moved to unlock it yet, Carol approached and he glanced at her nervously; her gut twisted a bit. Perhaps this was a bad idea; maybe it was too much for him? Even she was a little overwhelmed at the prospect of living with another man so soon after Ed. Wrapping her arms around herself and keeping her eyes to the ground, Carol spoke softly.

"Daryl, it's okay if you don't want to do this, I can figure something else out . . ." she was fidgeting nervously when he glanced at her again. Daryl realized she must think he didn't want her around and scrambled to tell her she wasn't the problem.

"No, it's alright, I jus' . . . My place prob'ly ain't up to the standards you're used to . . ." his hands were shoved into his pockets and he was looking at the ground too, cheeks tinged pink. Carol looked up at him and smiled, relieved that she wasn't the issue.

"Well, it's gotta be better than sleeping in a tent and pissing in a bucket, right?" Carol grinned. He was a little shocked at her language; Carol rarely cursed, but found himself returning her grin with a half smile. He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

Carol didn't know what he was so afraid of. It wasn't gross by any means – nothing was moving or growing and it didn't stink. The house was definitely old and musty but that didn't bother her, it was nothing a good deep cleaning couldn't fix. There wasn't much in the way of furniture, just a worn out a couch, a coffee table held together with duct tape, an end table by the door for keys, and a small TV stand with a small but newer-looking television; all of it was second-hand. She could see the kitchen from where she stood by the front door; it was very outdated, the cabinets could use a sanding and repainting, the linoleum had a few good tears in it and had a couple corners curling up, and the appliances were old. A rickety table with mismatching chairs sat in the kitchen as well. Opposite the front door, on the other side of the living room, was a hallway that led to what she assumed was the bedrooms and bathroom. Daryl was watching her, searching her face for disappointment or disgust but he never saw it. Carol looked up at him and smiled reassuringly.

"An older home doesn't bother me Daryl; that kitchen will take a little getting used to but I'm happy to have a roof over my head," she wasn't going to lie and say it was perfect but she did want him to know he had nothing to be ashamed of. "Now, where can I put my stuff?" Carol had brought a box of clothes, a few books, and the baby box Daryl rescued from her apartment.

"Uh, I guess ya can take my room, jus-"

"Daryl, no! I can't kick you out of your own room!"

"It's that or take Merle's room an' believe me, you don' wanna go in there," he shuddered again thinking of all the nasty things that room had seen. "He's prob'ly had every skank in Atlanta in that bed . . ." he spoke off-handedly, not really meaning to say that out loud.

"Oh? And how many women have been in _your _bed?" Carol smirked at him, raising an eyebrow; she was teasing. Even though the question wasn't serious she didn't miss how red his face got as he turned away and walked towards the hallway.

"I uh, I jus' washed the sheets a few days ago so . . . they should be good . . ." he stammered, trying to come up with some sort of answer instead of a number he didn't want to admit to; and it wasn't a lie. At-home laundry is one luxury Daryl enjoyed after growing up washing clothes in the creek out back. "Jus' let me get my shit outta there and it's all yours," he ducked into his bedroom, hoping the red in his face went away soon.

Carol giggled; she couldn't help but adore how flustered he got sometimes. While he moved his stuff she went back outside and retrieved her belongings, carrying them inside. Once Daryl got the room cleared of his stuff Carol walked in to see the space she'd call hers for the next few months. It was even barer than the living room and kitchen, just a bed without a head or footboard and a small dresser that doubled as a nightstand with a lamp sitting on top. The sheets and blanket were disheveled on the unmade bed but they did look clean.

There wasn't anything on the walls, no photos, no shelves with knick-knacks, no curtains hanging over the windows, just blinds. Carol was beginning to realize the one thing she didn't like about the house – how _empty _it was; devoid of warmth.

"Is this alright?" a gruff voice spoke behind her. Carol nearly jumped out of her skin; she'd never understand how he moved so silently. Turning around, she nodded and smiled softly; he was in the doorway, leaning on the frame with his arms crossed.

"Yes, thank you," a yawn escaped her and Carol realized how exhausted she was; with the excitement of the fire and moving to yet another new place she hadn't slept at all the night before and now her body was reminding her of those lost hours. "Oh, I'm exhausted . . ." she looked at the bed wistfully but she was scheduled for a shift at the diner soon.

"Already called the diner; rest up for the night shift. I got another job ta git to but I'll see ya there later."

"Aren't you getting any rest? You got as much sleep as I did," once again, Carol was surprised at his thoughtfulness and simultaneously worried about his wellbeing.

"Nah, I'll be a'right," _not like I sleep much anyway_. Even though it had been nearly a year since kicking his nighttime drinking habit, Daryl still didn't get to sleep easily or sleep very well when he did manage it. He was pretty used to insufficient amounts of sleep at this point. "I'll see ya later, get some sleep," and with that, he was gone.

Carol dug through her box of clothes to find something to sleep in before crawling into bed. She felt a little awkward getting into a bed that wasn't her own but at least it was comfortable. As her head hit the pillow, scents of the earth invaded her nose and she drifted to sleep dreaming of mountains and the forest.

**-**TWD**-**

It didn't take Carol long to settle in to her new home; within a week she was feeling pretty comfortable. Currently she was sitting on the couch reading one of the books she brought with her from the apartment. Daryl was at work at the motorcycle shop and Carol assumed he'd be home soon since it was close to early evening. The loud rumble of an approaching motorcycle proved her right; Carol set the book on the coffee table and went to the kitchen.

Daryl walked through the front door, threw his keys on the table and meant to head to the kitchen but stopped dead in his tracks. Everything looked the way he left it except . . . _cleaner_. The musty smell was gone, the walls looked a few shades lighter and he'd swear they were sparkling, the windows were spotless, and there wasn't a speck of dust in sight.

He wasn't dirty by any means; Daryl was good at picking up after himself and putting things away. He didn't mind the dirt and sweat and grime that came with being outdoors but living in a filthy environment growing up was a source of embarrassment to him and he'd gotten in the habit of picking up after himself. He didn't leave empty bottles, take-out containers, or dirty dishes lying around; everything had a place when it wasn't being used. But he'd never been taught about keeping a spotless home; even before his momma died she spent more time in bed with wine and cigarettes than keeping a clean house and his daddy sure as hell didn't do anything close to housekeeping. So he didn't really know anything about the finer points of cleaning, like dusting, mopping, vacuuming, and washing windows. He did sweep the kitchen floor and knew how to keep a bathroom clean but that was about it.

"Hey there," Carol was standing between the kitchen and living room, a towel in her hands and a nervous smile on her face.

"Hey," Daryl toed off his boots and pushed them next to the door, "So . . . wha's all this?"

"Oh, well, I didn't really have anything to do today so . . . I thought you might like coming home to a clean house. Is that alright?" She was a little afraid he'd be offended that she took it upon herself to clean _his _home.

"Yeah, sure . . ." he glanced around, "Actually, I think it's the cleanest I ever seen it. Are the walls _sparkling?_" he smirked at her and she laughed a bit, relieved.

"I think you're imagining things. Now get in here before dinner gets cold," Carol smiled and disappeared into the kitchen. Daryl was confused. _Dinner?_

He walked into the kitchen and was once again surprised to find Carol had set the table and was setting two plates of food down before taking a seat. He approached and pulled his own chair out from the table before sitting down; the food smelled amazing.

"Jesus, woman, ya cooked too?" she just shrugged at him and started eating. "Ya din' have to do all this, ya know . . ." Daryl was a little taken aback by her surprise; he wasn't used to people doing nice things for him.

"I know . . . It's just . . . You've done so much and I didn't even have to ask . . . So I wanted to return the favor somehow," Carol glanced at him before returning her eyes to her plate. She didn't think she'd ever be able to repay him but she sure wasn't going to take advantage of his kindness.

Daryl didn't know how to respond to that and instead started eating. The food was _good_, better than good; Carol was a fantastic cook if this meal was anything to go by. Daryl liked it enough to slow down and _enjoy_ it and had to keep himself from licking the plate when it was empty.

"Did you like it?" He could detect the nervousness in her voice. Ed had never been one to compliment her cooking, instead complaining about this or that or even going so far as throwing the plate back at her. Carol loved cooking but she couldn't help being nervous about Daryl's reaction to her food.

"Don' tell 'im I said this but, that was better than Lafayette's cookin'" he said before getting up and picking up their plates to take to the sink; Carol's hand on his arm stopped him and he glanced down at her.

"Thank you," she spoke softly, looking up at him. That was the best compliment he could have given her and Carol knew he wouldn't lie; Daryl wasn't the sugar-coating type. He gave her another of his half-smiles and made his way to the sink to clean up.

Carol tried to help him do dishes but he kicked her out of the kitchen saying she'd done enough so she found herself back on the couch reading her book. A short while later Daryl returned from the kitchen and found a seat on the couch as well. She closed her book and reached for another on the coffee table before tossing it onto his lap; he glanced at it, _White Fang _by Jack London.

"A book about a wolf?" He looked at her skeptically.

"It's a good book. And if you like it, there's another – _Call of the Wild._ I thought we could get you started on another book and maybe try reading it out loud-"

"_No_," he growled. Daryl's face had darkened and he was glaring holes through the book and his grip on it was tighter.

"Daryl, I think reading out loud would help-" Carol started softly, but she was interrupted again.

"I ain't fuckin' readin' out loud," he snarled, tossing the book onto the coffee table and standing up. Carol was stunned and confused by his outburst but she was determined to get to the bottom of it. He'd moved to the kitchen and she heard the refrigerator open, she got up and followed him. Daryl was standing in front of an open fridge, glaring at it but he didn't move to grab anything yet. She was nervous, Carol didn't like being around an angry man; her palms were sweaty and her heart was pounding but she forced herself to stay where she was.

"Daryl, would you mind telling me what this is about?" Her voice was extremely quiet and she couldn't hide the anxiety in it. Daryl glanced at her and immediately felt like an asshole; she was scared of him. And after all the work she'd put in today, cleaning the house and making a meal, here he was, acting like a jackass and snarling at her. The thought made him sick and he forced himself to calm down; Carol hadn't done anything wrong. He shut the fridge and moved back to the table, sitting down and looking at his fidgeting hands. Carol remained upright and didn't move from her spot in the entryway between the kitchen and living room. She waited patiently until he worked up the courage to start speaking.

"He always made fun a' me . . . Made me read out loud jus' so he could laugh," his shoulders were slumped and he was mumbling but Carol could hear him just fine. Once again she found herself mentally cursing the monster that did this and approached the table slowly before sliding into a chair. She placed her hands over his to still them and stared at him until he looked up at her.

"I am not _him._ I'm not going to laugh at you. But if you don't want to at least try, I don't blame you and I won't push. You can read that book however you want, okay?" she was staring at him earnestly and he nodded, eyes dropping back to their hands. "But I think your biggest problem with reading stems from what he did; he shut you down and now your anxiety stops you up more than anything else and I think it would help to work through that. And I also think proving him wrong is the best revenge," she gave him a small smirk before standing and moving to return to the living room but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

"'M sorry . . . fer how I acted. It wasn' right," Daryl mumbled. He really didn't want her to be afraid of him like she'd been afraid of Ed; he'd never lay a hand on her or intentionally make her feel bad about herself and he wanted her to know that.

"Apology accepted," Carol smiled at him and pulled him with her to the living room. She grabbed the book from the table and held it out to him. He stared at it for a few moments before taking it with a resigned sigh and sitting down. Cracking it open, he found page one and started talking.

**-**TWD**-**

It was a Saturday morning and Carol found herself waking up early. She wasn't one to sleep until noon on her days off but she did enjoy waking up _after_ the sun had risen. Stretching, she threw the covers from her legs and stood up. Carol knew Daryl was planning to visit his brother again today so she planned to get out of the house as well and do some shopping. She grabbed her laundry basket of dirty clothes and pulled a towel from the hall closet and headed into the bathroom. Carol took off her pajamas and tossed them into the washer with the rest of her laundry before pouring some detergent in and closing the lid; she'd start the cycle after her shower.

She hummed to herself as she towel-dried her hair before drying the rest of herself off and stepping out of the shower onto a bath rug. She was about to toss the towel over the shower rod to dry when she realized she had forgotten to bring any clean clothes to the shower with her. _Crap._ Carol was still used to her en-suite bathroom and being able to walk straight from the shower to her room to get dressed. She wasn't in the habit yet of bringing clothes into the bathroom with her now that she shared a house with Daryl. _Maybe he's still asleep? _Carol could only hope as she wrapped the towel around herself and peeked out the door; the coast was clear from her vantage point. She bolted down the hallway, chancing a look behind her, before slamming into something solid _and warm _before tumbling with it to the floor.

Daryl was half asleep, in nothing but boxer shorts and a t-shirt, on his way to the bathroom when he found himself knocked on his back with a weight on his chest. Bringing his head up he was shocked to see Carol on top of him staring right back and then he noticed she was damn-near _naked_. His breath caught in his throat and his eyes grew wide; their faces were only inches apart and both of them were frozen with shock.

"What the _hell _are ya doin'?" he finally choked out. Carol was warm and soft against him; she had landed with her arms on his chest and a leg between his. While he was grateful a knee hadn't landed on his crotch, he was definitely _not_ appreciating his body's response. Already half hard with morning wood, the friction of Carol's thigh wasn't helping any; his face turned bright red with embarrassment knowing she could feel it. _Way to go Dixon, ya fuckin' perv._

"I-I'm sorry, I was-" Carol stammered, scrambling to climb off the _very attractive _man beneath her. She pushed herself up off his chest to stand up but to her horror the towel came loose from its knot and fell back onto Daryl's chest. She gasped and grabbed for it; to Daryl's credit he snapped his eyes shut but not before glimpsing Carol's chest, an image that would forever be burned into his memory. It definitely sent a shock to his groin and Daryl couldn't take it anymore; he sat up and pushed her off his lap, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't move until he heard Carol take off to her room and slam the door shut; he scrambled to the bathroom to take a very cold shower.

The icy water wasn't working and Daryl was very irritated with himself. Try as he might, Daryl could not get the image of Carol's naked chest out of his mind. He'd seen plenty of tits before with all the women Merle brought home and the dirty mags he'd been curious enough to flip through but he'd never had a pair of naked boobs so close to his own face. Daryl was a little perplexed, he'd never really experienced physical attraction to a woman before; he'd never been interested in the opposite sex, preferring to stay away from any kind of intimacy. But then here comes sweet little Carol running into him and suddenly he's a goddamn teenage boy again. It was infuriating; he didn't want to mess up the first and only friendship he'd ever had because his dick had a mind of its own. Daryl knew things would never go beyond friendship between them because she deserved someone better than a fucked-up angry redneck.

Carol made it to her room and slammed the door shut. Her face was bright red and her heart was pounding in her chest. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She also couldn't believe the fact that she was _attracted _to him. Not because he wasn't attractive, oh, he was most definitely attractive; it wasn't just the solid muscles of his chest and arms or his handsome face or those beautiful steel blue eyes that drew her to him, but the way he treated her, as if she was worth something. No, she couldn't believe she was attracted to another man so soon after getting out of an abusive relationship; Carol didn't think there'd be another man after Ed, didn't think she'd find herself attracted to someone else but their little run-in made it abundantly clear that she wasn't completely shut off to companionship. But Carol knew she and Daryl would remain platonic; he didn't see her that way. And if she was being honest, Carol was afraid to take that step with another person, considering how badly things turned out last time. She didn't think Daryl would ever be like Ed but she couldn't help being wary.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **I've had the shower run-in written and waiting for a few weeks now. I'm very happy to finally share it with you guys. ;) Hope you enjoyed.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **Thank you all so much for reading. And thank you for the reviews/faves/follows, it really is much appreciated. I got a question concerning how long it's been since Daryl and Carol met so I figured I'd just break down the basic timeline of events:

Merle went to jail at the end of June the previous year; Daryl started working at the diner in July. They met in September, Ed attacked her towards the end of that month and his trial went from late October through to the end of the year. Daryl helped her move, learned about Sophia, and started reading _The Outsiders_ in January. He finished that book and the apartment fire happened in April. But the shower run-in occurred in June and this chapter is a continuation of that. Sorry for any confusion!

**Catriona: **Thank you so much for the review! I love awkward sexy moments and these two are a lot of fun in that regard!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

After getting dressed, Carol went to the kitchen and found Daryl sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal. He glanced at her and his face turned red again and he kept his eyes glued to his bowl.

"Well, that was awkward," Carol joked, trying to break the tension; Daryl snorted into his food.

"Ya think? Not every day I get a naked woman throwin' herself at me," he smirked as he watched Carol turn red too; at least he wasn't the only one feeling embarrassed about it.

"Just every _other _day, right?" Carol played along, grabbing a bowl, the box of cereal, and milk for her own breakfast; Daryl snorted again but didn't reply. She made her breakfast and sat down to eat it before deciding to change the subject. "So you're going to visit Merle?" He nodded. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

"I don' usually stay long, visit time's limited, but it's a couple hour drive to the prison."

"Prison?"

Daryl froze and his face paled, realizing his slip-up; he still hadn't told Carol anything about Merle but the cat was out of the bag now and he nodded slowly.

"He, uh . . . he's an addict and got caught dealin' a few times . . . Law got tired a' second chances and locked him up . . . My brother, he ain't perfect but he's all I got," he glanced at her nervously, waiting to see her reaction. Carol could sense his anxiety and wanted to put him at ease.

"Well, we all make mistakes and I'm in no place to judge anybody. I hope he's getting the help he needs," Carol knew addiction well enough to know that people generally had their reasons for turning to substance abuse and could guess what drove Merle to his but she didn't voice those thoughts. Instead, she smiled softly and Daryl relaxed a bit, "I wouldn't mind getting to meet him sometime though . . ." Carol glanced at him, gauging his reaction; he was looking down at his food and chewing on his thumbnail again and he didn't respond for a few moments.

"Do uh . . . do ya wanna come with me today? He's been buggin' me to bring ya along last few times I went . . ." he mumbled and Carol was surprised to learn he'd told his brother about her and smiled again.

"I'd love to."

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl spent the drive telling Carol about Merle; how he and their grandfather had been the ones to teach him how to track and hunt. That the best hunting trips had always been with his older brother and he enjoyed the time away from their daddy. He told her about the pranks they'd play on each other, like the time Merle got him extremely drunk so he could torture him when he was hungover and his own pink-room revenge; that story almost brought a full smile to his face. But Daryl was also sure to warn her about his brother's dirty mouth.

"He'll start out nice an' sweet but before long he'll be tryin' ta get in yer pants," Daryl grumbled, an uncharacteristic annoyance rising up at the thought of his brother flirting with Carol; his grip on the wheel tightened as he turned into the parking lot.

"Sounds like fun," Carol giggled, unbuckling her seat belt as he parked.

They got signed in and made their way through security before being led to the visiting hall. Merle arrived from his side just as they walked through the door; Daryl waved and walked towards their usual table, Carol following closely behind. She could see a clear resemblance between the brothers, although Merle was a bit bigger, more muscular. He saw her and his face broke out into a big grin as they made it to the table.

"So my brother finally got the guts ta bring ya along to meet big, bad Merle?"

"He did," Carol nodded, "I'm glad to be meeting you, he's told me a lot," she smiled at him.

"Is tha' right? Whatcha been tellin' her 'bout me, little brother?" Merle wasn't afraid of what some woman thought of him but he was a little impressed Carol tagged along with his brother to meet him, knowing he was in prison.

"Nothin' jus' the good stuff," Daryl smirked, "like yer favorite color is pink and ya have a giant unicorn shoved under yer bed." Merle knew his brother was trying to get under his skin but it wasn't that easy and unfortunately for Daryl, Merle was far better at this game.

"True," he grinned and Daryl realized his mistake too late, "but that ain't the only giant _thing _I got, if ya know what I mean," Merle smiled at Carol suggestively, expecting her to faint or at least turn bright red.

"_Goddammit Merle!_" Daryl snarled before glancing sheepishly at Carol, "I told ya he had a dirty fuckin' mouth."

"Tha's right it's dirty. Least I know how ta use it," Merle grinned again as Daryl groaned, his head laying on his arm to hide his red face but Carol paid him no mind.

"Is that so, Mister Dixon?" The suggestive tone of her voice had Daryl's head snapping up to look at her and Merle couldn't deny liking the way she said his name. Carol was leveling him with her own insinuating stare, an eyebrow raised and lips quirked in a flirty smile. "I bet you're pretty lonely in here, huh? No pretty little things like me to keep ya company?" Her smile widened and she was leaning towards him; Merle was leaning her direction too, his attention focused on her completely.

Daryl's jaw was pretty much on the floor and his eyes were bugging out of his skull watching this. What the fuck just happened? Where did Carol go and who was this fox sitting in her place? For the second time that day he found himself getting turned on by this woman and heat flushed his face again. _Now's not the time, Dixon. Get a hold a' yerself!_

"No, I definitely ain't seen no action in here . . . Ya wanna help me out with that, sweetheart?" he smirked and Daryl barely resisted kicking him as hard as he could under the table; he wanted to see where Carol was going with this.

"Hm, I think I've got something that might help," Carol smirked, her voice getting softer and that definitely wasn't helping Daryl calm down but she wasn't paying attention to him. She was leaning even closer to Merle and gestured for him to come closer with her finger; he obeyed. Pausing for a few moments, enjoying the silence, she whispered in his ear but Daryl could hear it as well, "Why don't you try dropping the soap and see how much action that gets you?"

Carol leaned back and relished the stunned look on Merle Dixon's face before he burst into loud laughter, slamming his hand on the table. Daryl nearly choked on air before a grin split his face and he laughed too. He couldn't believe Carol just managed to one up his own brother; he was proud, very proud.

Carol was feeling smug and very proud of herself and she glanced at Daryl; her breath caught in her throat. She'd never seen him smile like that and she definitely hadn't heard him laugh before either; it was always smirks, small smiles, and snorts from him, never a full grin and actual laugh. He had a _beautiful_ smile and she loved the way his laugh sounded. Her heart swelled with a little more pride, knowing she'd been the one to put that smile there, make him laugh like that.

"Oh brother, I like this one. She needs ta stick around," Merle finally managed to speak after so many minutes of laughing; his face and ribs hurt. He'd also noticed the smile and laughter from his baby brother and almost couldn't believe it; he couldn't remember the last time Daryl looked like that. Merle had to hand it to Carol; she was definitely working some magic.

Carol was about to ask Merle a question but a glance over his shoulder had the words frozen in her throat and her face losing color, the proud smile dropping quickly. _Ed._

Ed Peletier had been visiting with his lawyer about appealing his case when loud laughter caught his attention. Lo and behold, there was his shitty ex-wife chit-chatting with her trailer trash boy toy and his junkie brother. His nasty temper flared up and Ed abruptly walked away from his lawyer, storming towards Carol.

Both brothers noticed the shift and Daryl's eyes found what she was looking at. A scowl planted itself on his face as he stood, Carol standing up beside him. Merle looked over his shoulder and sighed; he was familiar with the whiny prick, their cells were across from each other in the hall. All Ed ever did was bitch and moan about how cold it was or the shitty food and more than once Merle found himself resisting punching his teeth in. He was about to stand up until he caught the look on his brother's face; instead, he chose to observe.

"Ya really lowered your standards, haven't ya Carol?" Ed sneered; he'd stopped a few feet from Merle. "Plannin' a three-way with these rednecks or what? Dirty fuckin' bitch," he snarled.

"Shut that mouth a' yers before I do it for you," Daryl growled, he didn't give a flying fuck if he was in the middle of a prison right now, he wasn't going to stand and listen to this asshole talk to Carol like that. His eyes were narrowed and focused on Ed, fists clenched at his sides. Carol remained silent, standing slightly behind Daryl. Seeing her ex-husband was so unexpected and watching him storm towards her like that had her frozen in unforgotten fear.

Ed ignored Daryl, continuing to keep his eyes locked on Carol; he had her right where he wanted her.

"Ya think ya got away from me, didn't ya? Guess what bitch, I got news for you," Carol hated the gleam in his eyes. "This prison sentence ain't stickin.' I'm gonna get outta here and the first thing I'm gonna do when I get out is find _your _stupid ass-"

"You come near her, I'll fuckin' kill you," Daryl snarled; he'd heard enough.

Merle couldn't believe what he just heard; the look on his brother's face told him he wasn't bluffing either. His baby brother actually fucking meant it. Daryl moved forward, he was losing his temper quickly and he was starting to see red but before he could move an inch to go beat Ed's face in again, a soft warm hand found itself on his arm soothing him instantly.

"Daryl, don't," Carol said softly. He didn't relax, exactly, but the red started to fade and his posture became less agitated although he was still glaring at Ed. Carol had finally shaken herself from her shock-induced fear and swallowed it, leveling a calm stare at her ex-husband. She stepped forward next to Daryl and the hand holding his arm slid down to grasp his hand; both for support and to piss Ed off. To her surprise, Daryl returned the gesture, squeezing her hand gently.

Once again, Merle was surprised; not only at the proximity between his brother and another human being, namely, a woman, but also her effect on him, how she calmed him. He almost wondered what kind of voodoo magic was at play here but secretly he knew _exactly _what he was looking at. His brother was healing. And it was because of _her._ Merle knew then and there he was forever indebted to this woman, his _brother's_ woman (even if his little brother didn't know that yet) and he'd find a way to return the favor.

"Go ahead and keep spitting that venom Ed but I'm done listening. I don't care what you think about me or the company I keep but I _will_ tell you this: Daryl's a better man than you'll _ever _be. And I'll never be more grateful for the day he came into my life and punched your ass out of it," Carol could not believe the words that just came out of her mouth and had no idea where the brass to say them had come from but once again she was damn proud of herself.

Two men and a monster were staring at her, stunned. Merle liked this woman more and more with every passing second, Daryl was reeling from what she'd said about him, and Ed's temper was boiling over. His face turned scarlet and he was about ready to wrap his hands around the bitch's throat but he knew better than to try that here, not with the two brothers and cops nearby.

"You're brave now, little girl, but you won't be so brave when I'm outta here," Ed snarled before stalking away. The trio was quiet for a moment before Merle broke the silence.

"Ya got some cajones on you, girlie," he laughed and Carol blushed, smiling shyly. "I'm tellin' ya bro, ya need ta hop in the sack with this one, I bet she's a wild one!" Merle grinned as Daryl slapped a hand to his face and groaned and Carol's face turned beet red; the two let their hands fall apart and moved away from each other.

"Way to ruin the moment, Merle," Carol groaned.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout? I always got a way with words!" Merle stood, grinning like an idiot, "And baby brother, piece of advice when ya finally do get it on: ladies come first," he winked at Carol and with that; the elder Dixon strode from the room laughing. This had been the best day he'd had in a _long _time. Daryl was glaring daggers at his brother's skull and Carol could only gape at the retreating form of Merle Dixon.

**-**TWD**-**

"Did ya really mean it?" Daryl asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the road. They'd been driving in silence for a while now, on their way home. Carol's words had been tumbling around in his head ever since she'd said them.

"Did I mean what?"

"What ya said 'bout me bein' a better man . . . Did ya really mean that?" No one had ever called him a good man before; no one had really ever had anything nice to say about him, actually. So he didn't know if she meant it or if she said it just to get under Ed's skin.

"Of course I did," she said gently; Carol hated how unsure he sounded. "You've done more than be kind to me . . . You've treated me like I'm worth something . . ." she was staring at her hands in her lap, "And it's been a long time since someone made me feel that way . . ." Carol was afraid of being so open and sincere; she didn't want to scare him off but she couldn't help but be completely honest with him either. She cared about him in a way she never thought she'd care again and she realized it the moment he grasped her hand, giving her strength. He was gentle and thoughtful; he made her feel cared for and safe.

Daryl didn't speak for several moments, his thoughts tumbling around in his head and he wasn't sure about what to say.

"Ya done the same fer me," he spoke quietly. He didn't realize just what he'd done for her until now; didn't realize just how much everything he'd done meant to her. Daryl had spent his whole life feeling worthless, no good to anybody, but when Carol told him he made her feel worth something he knew _exactly _how she felt because that's how she made him feel. She was patient and understanding; she made him feel worthwhile. And he was realizing how much he cared, which was shocking to him because he never thought he'd be able to care about anybody. But somehow Carol had stumbled into his life and shown him something he never thought he'd know – affection.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N: **Carol had her sassy britches on for this chapter, ha ha! Lot of progress for those two here. They're realizing their feelings go deeper than a simple friendship but it is still very much platonic at this point.

I know this one's a bit shorter than usual, sorry for that but I felt that if I added anything else I'd just be tacking it on and it wouldn't flow right.

Love to hear what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **Hello again and welcome to another chapter! Bit of a jump between this one and the last; a little time has passed but the chapter will clarify just how much. Thanks again to everyone who reads this fic and much love to my reviewers; I'm fast on my way to 200!

Chapter's dedicated to **Jodie Kay** for the awesome surprise that was a bunch of reviews waiting for me in my inbox. If you haven't, y'all need to read her **Caryl One Shots **and **Such Great Heights **fics, I love them!

**Crazstiz: **Who doesn't love a sassy Carol?! ;) Thanks for the review!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl was sure his face was on fire. Or it was at least as red as the bra he was looking at. He'd been pulling his own laundry from the dryer when the piece of lingerie had come tumbling with his clothes into the laundry basket. It now sat atop the pile and he couldn't take his eyes off it; fire engine red with black lace accents, it looked new. He kicked the door to the dryer shut and headed to Carol's room praying it was just the bra mixed in with his laundry; his imagination didn't need to add a matching set of panties.

It was the beginning of the Fourth of July weekend; Carol had wanted to do something for the holiday since they both had time off and asked Daryl if he wanted to go to the park and watch fireworks with the rest of the town. The idea of being around a bunch of crowds, alcohol, and explosives wasn't appealing at all and Daryl came up with a better idea – he was going to take Carol camping, although she made him promise there'd be fireworks. So the both of them had been doing their laundry in order to finish up packing so they could head out which is how he found himself with Carol's bra in his laundry basket.

"Hey Carol? I think ya left some a' yer stuff in the dryer," he spoke through the door, waiting for an answer. A moment later the door opened and Carol glanced at the basket in his arms before she blushed and snatched the article of clothing and quickly tossed it over her shoulder out of sight.

"Oh, um, sorry about that . . . I was wondering where that went . . ." Carol muttered. She had just bought it on a whim when she had gone shopping a couple weeks ago. She'd never been allowed to have nice or sexy clothing with Ed around and decided to splurge a little. Carol loved lingerie; even if she didn't have anyone to wear it for, she liked the way it made her feel. Daryl moved to walk away but Carol stopped him, blush getting deeper.

"Wait, I don't think that's it . . ." she mumbled as she dug through the pile of clothes in the basket before finally finding what she was looking for and, sure enough, it was a red pair of panties with black lace accents.

A shocking image of Carol wearing only the bra and panties flashed through Daryl's mind and he was extraordinarily grateful he was holding a laundry basket in front of himself. He didn't know what the hell was going on with his head but he wished it would stop torturing him with this shit. More than once he'd woken up aroused to the memory of their little shower run-in from a few weeks ago and he wished he could get that image of her out of his mind. He just felt dirty, thinking about her like that. Not because he wasn't attracted but because he didn't like imagining something he knew would never happen. He knew Carol cared about him but he didn't think she'd ever be attracted to him; she'd probably be disgusted if she knew the thoughts that ran through his head.

Now that he'd returned her missing underwear, Daryl made his way to his own room to finish up packing. Hopefully he'd have the new dirty image of Carol scrubbed from his mind by the time he was done otherwise it was going to be a _very_ long weekend.

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl got the truck parked in its usual spot as close to the campsite as possible but they still had a hike ahead of them. He carried most of their gear even though it was stuff he brought for Carol more than himself, like a tent and fold-up chairs. Rarely did he use a tent to go camping unless he thought it was going to rain, Daryl was perfectly fine lying under the stars next to a fire but he figured Carol would appreciate some semblance of privacy so he brought it along. Carol had packed the large cooler in the back of his truck with food for the weekend and pulled some of it out to put into a smaller cooler to take to the campsite for their dinner tonight. He stared at her with an eyebrow raised as she sprayed herself down with bug spray, almost shaking his head; he'd never used that crap in his life. After she stuffed the bottle back in her bag he handed her a walking stick and took off into the woods, Carol following him.

Within a couple hours Daryl got them to his usual spot and scoped out a place to pitch the tent. Carol was hot and sweaty and her back ached a little but she had to admit the view was worth it, the mountainous landscape with a river snaking its way between two peaks in a valley. She helped Daryl get the tent set up and threw her sleeping bag into it although she noticed his was still rolled up and sitting outside. Daryl was off gathering firewood and she set up the chairs near the fire pit and pulled a couple beers from the cooler. When he returned, Daryl got a fire going so they could cook up some dinner but Carol had a little issue that needed taking care of.

"Um, Daryl . . .where's the bathroom?" she asked, blushing. Daryl stared at her confused.

"Pick a tree, any tree," he replied, gesturing in a circle. "Not too close ta camp though."

"What?!" she squeaked. "Aren't there port-a-potties or something?"

"I thought ya said you been campin' before," Daryl had no idea what she was going on about.

"Well yeah and there's always been a place to go to the bathroom," Carol had never gone camping in the actual woods. Her family trips to go camping always involved going to designated camping areas that had outhouses; some of them even had plumbing set up for real bathrooms and showers.

"I don't know what yer talkin' about but that ain't campin,'" Daryl moved to his pack and started digging through it before pulling out a roll of toilet paper and a trowel. Carol's face paled and he almost laughed but didn't want to hurt her feelings by making her feel stupid.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" Carol was wishing she'd dragged him to the community Fourth of July party right about now. And Daryl's faced turned crimson when he realized he'd have to actually show her what to do.

"C'mon then, I'm only showin' ya this once," he sighed and headed into the woods a little ways before picking a relatively large tree and moving to the side that couldn't be seen from camp. "Ya dig a hole, 'bout six ta ten inches deep," he dug one out close to the tree, "do yer business, then bury it. Helps ta lean against the tree but make sure there ain't poison oak or ivy nearby or your ass is gonna be itchin' fer two weeks at least."

Carol simply nodded, blushing furiously, and took the toilet paper and trowel from him before he took off back to camp.

**-**TWD **-**

Night had fallen and the two of them sat next to the fire, staring up at the stars and picking out constellations, like the great hunter Orion, which was Daryl's favorite; Carol liked Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, a mother bear and her son. Both of them were enjoying a good buzz from drinking a couple of beers. Carol's eyes dropped from the sky and she glanced over at him; she noticed just how relaxed he was, she didn't think she'd ever seen him so . . . at peace.

"You're different."

"Hm?" he barely responded, eyes still on the sky.

"Out here, in the forest, you're different. I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed before," Carol took another sip of her beer and returned her eyes to the sky. Daryl looked at her; he didn't realize she paid so much attention to him.

"I like it out here. Always been peaceful," he replied. Carol didn't respond but she had to agree, it was very peaceful out here and she'd never seen so many stars in the night sky before.

Neither of them had much to say, simply enjoying the quiet evening and each other's company. Before long, Carol decided to call it a night and crawled into the tent. She noticed Daryl still hadn't put his sleeping bag in the tent and almost asked him about it but then she thought better of it; she didn't want to make him uncomfortable and ruin the good mood.

The next morning Carol rose with a groan, her lower back was still aching from the hike yesterday. But soon the smell of a wonderful meal had her getting dressed and sticking her head out of the tent. Carol was surprised to see Daryl cooking something over the fire; he turned at the sound of the zipper.

"G'mornin,'" he smiled softly, turning back to the food.

"Good morning. That smells delicious, what is it?" Carol had crawled out of the tent and took her chair by the fire, pulling a water bottle from the cooler.

"Did some early mornin' huntin,'" Daryl gestured towards his crossbow that she hadn't noticed before, "Caught a few squirrels and found some quail eggs for breakfast. Ever have squirrel before?"

"No, I haven't but it smells really good," Carol was pleasantly surprised to wake up to a meal. "You are full of surprises, Dixon. I've never had a guy cook a meal for me before. If only I had slept a little longer . . . then I could have had breakfast in bed," she heaved a loud, fake sigh and Daryl snorted.

"Don' push your luck woman," he grumbled but Carol could detect the humor in it and giggled.

She pulled out a couple paper plates when the food was done and dug in to the meal he'd cooked up. Carol loved it enough to enjoy two servings and Daryl turned a little pink, not expecting her to enjoy it _that _much, he wasn't as good a cook as she was.

After breakfast was finished and cleared up Daryl took her to the river running nearby. He wanted to go swimming and she opted to stay on the bank and sun bathe, her back was still aching and she didn't want to make it worse knowing they were going to be hiking again that afternoon. Carol wore a pair of short shorts and a tank top, after slathering sunscreen on herself and laying out a towel, Carol grabbed a book and started reading. Daryl threw on a pair of shorts but kept his t-shirt on and launched himself into the river for a cool swim. A couple hours passed and Daryl re-emerged from the water; the sun told him it was almost time to leave for their hike. Carol glanced up from her book when she heard him coming and almost had to keep her jaw from dropping. His wet shirt was leaving absolutely _nothing_ to the imagination and she had to fight to drag her eyes away from the sight before he caught her checking him out.

"'Bout time ta go," he said as he walked past, seemingly oblivious to the reaction he'd caused. Carol simply nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and got up to follow him back to camp fanning herself with the book she was reading.

Carol changed into jeans and wrapped a jacket around her waist, knowing that once it got dark it would cool off quite a bit. Daryl was back in jeans and a dry shirt, crossbow over his shoulder and flashlight clipped to his belt. He handed her a walking stick before grabbing his own and they took off into the woods.

The hike was a few hours long but it was an easy one, which Carol was grateful for, it didn't seem to be making her back any worse. Daryl was slow and patient, taking his time since he knew Carol wasn't used to hiking. When they arrived at the spot he was looking for the sun had nearly set. They were standing on a cliff overlooking the valley and Carol could see some lights from a small town down in the valley. Daryl sat down, his feet dangling over the edge and Carol mimicked him, plopping down right beside him. It didn't take long for it to get completely dark and she began to wonder what they were doing here looking down at the town below.

But it didn't take long for her to figure it out. A bright streak of light shot up above the town and exploded into a colorful display of glowing orbs before fading away, another bright streak taking its place. Daryl had promised her fireworks and stayed true to his word.

"My brother brought me here all the time when I was little to watch the fireworks. Bes' place to see 'em and ya don' gotta worry 'bout nobody buggin' ya," he whispered, watching the fireworks as well. This spot was a place of cherished memories for him and he wanted to share it with her.

"Daryl . . . this is amazing. What a wonderful surprise," Carol could tell by the way he spoke that this place was special to him and she couldn't stop the happiness from bubbling up knowing he'd chosen to share it with her. "Thank you for sharing this with me . . ."she tentatively reached for his hand, grasping it again, "It means the world." Carol smiled at him, relieved he didn't pull his hand away but once again returned the gesture. She turned back to the show and leaned against his shoulder to watch the finale. Bright explosions of color hovered over the small mountain town illuminating the entire valley for a few minutes.

After it went dark they continued to sit in contented silence, Carol's thumb stroking a gentle circle in his palm. Thoughts were swirling in her head and she was coming to shocking conclusion; she was falling for this man. She almost gasped out loud at the realization but kept silent. Carol also knew this was a long time coming; her feelings for him had been strong for a long time now but her brain had only just caught up to what those feelings meant. She couldn't call it love, not yet but somewhere along the way this friendship had become more than a simple friendship and she knew it was time to put it out there.

"I love this . . . _us_ . . . being together," Carol whispered and swallowed thickly, terrified of the possible repercussions but she knew Daryl would never make the first move and she didn't want to spend an eternity wondering if he'd ever return those feelings. It was now or never. She took it as a good sign when he didn't bolt immediately but he did pull away slightly to look at her even though they really couldn't see each other in the dark. But Carol didn't have to see his face to know how he looked – confused, at a loss for words.

"Carol . . . I-I don' know anythin' about bein' in a relationship . . ." Daryl wasn't thick; he knew what she was telling him and decided to be honest. "Never had one an' always thought no one would want me . . ." his last words were mumbled quietly and she could tell he wasn't looking at her anymore but had his head down. But, he still hadn't removed his hand from hers.

"Why would you think that?" She asked gently.

"'Cuz . . ." he sighed, why did everything have to go back to his father? "'Cuz tha's what he said. Nobody'd ever want a dumb, ugly, redneck like me . . ." his throat was constricting again, it was extraordinarily difficult for him to admit that and Carol could feel him start shaking. She knew who the 'he' Daryl was referring to and squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"I do," she said boldly, clearly; not whispering or mumbling. Daryl's head snapped up to look at her, eyes wide; he could see her outline now that his eyes had adjusted to the dark. He was surprised at her boldness, how she said it without hesitation and was staring directly at him; she meant it. "I want to be with you. This last year has been the happiest I've been in a long time and all of it is thanks to you, Daryl. I don't think you're dumb or ugly . . . I think you're kind, thoughtful, and handsome to boot," she grinned a little and he looked down again. "You make me _happy_ and I want to do the same for you . . ." Carol hesitated, getting nervous about what she was going to say next. "If you want me to, that is . . . If-if you don't see me that way, it's alright, okay? If you're not interested, I-I'll walk away right now and I'll never bring it up again . . ." Carol had to make herself breathe and she was no longer staring at him, too nervous for his answer.

Daryl was completely astounded. He couldn't believe the turn this evening took and it had him reeling. Never, not ever, did he think this would happen to him, always thinking he'd spend the rest of his life alone. But looking back over the almost-year with Carol he realized how much he'd changed, how much she'd changed him. It wasn't a conscious thing; she wasn't _trying_ to change him the way some women bragged about changing their cavemen into sophisticated gentlemen. No, it wasn't anything like that. Her mere presence in his life, the way she treated him, handled him with a gentleness and care he'd never known soothed the rage in him. She couldn't change what was done to him but she could show him he was more than the monster ever said he could be and that's exactly what she was doing. He hadn't recognized his feelings for what they were because how could he recognize something he'd never known before? The realization slammed into him like a ton of bricks. But he had no idea what to say or how to say it; words were failing him at the worst possible moment.

Daryl had been silent for several minutes and with each second passing, Carol lost hope, her posture slouching as her good mood deflated. Thankful for the darkness to hide the tears pricking her eyes, she moved to get up and somehow find her way back to camp but Daryl refused to let go of her hand. She turned to look at him, one last spark of hope still alive.

"I . . . I don' want ya to go . . ." Daryl mumbled, "I don' know anythin' about this stuff or what the hell I'm doin' . . ." he was looking at the ground, hand still grasping hers. Even though she wanted to jump for joy, Carol could sense his nerves and settled for sitting back down.

"Well, given my past experience, I'd say I'm no expert either," she smiled at him and waited for his eyes to meet hers again, "We'll figure this out together."

Daryl smiled and nodded; they both moved to get up and made their way back to camp.

**-**TWD**-**

The next morning Carol woke up late, almost close to noon; she'd barely slept. Her lower back was aching even worse and she figured she must have really tweaked it somehow and the long walk to the cliff must have done more than she thought. But she was in too good a mood from last night to let a little pain bring her down so she got dressed and crawled her way out of the tent. Daryl had most of the camp packed up for their trip back home but he'd left out a plate of food wrapped in foil for her to eat when she got up. All that was left to pack up was the tent; it looked like he had already gotten everything else back to the truck. He emerged from the woods just as she sat down to eat and gave her a shy smile which she returned. As she ate, he took down the tent and got it back into the bag it came with. Once she was finished with breakfast she got up to get her stuff ready to go. Daryl saw her flinch as she stood.

"Ya alright?" He asked, frowning.

"I'm fine, my back hurts a little but I'm sure it's nothing a soft mattress can't fix," she smiled reassuringly and he let it go but kept an eye on her.

Once she had her bag packed, they were ready to go; he carried the tent and his crossbow while Carol carried her bag of clothes and they made their way back to his truck to head home.

By the time they got back to Atlanta, evening had set in and they just grabbed something fast to eat for dinner before unloading the truck. Daryl grabbed the last of the supplies and hauled them inside, they'd put everything away later. He pushed the front door open with his shoulder and dropped the tent and his pack by the door before turning around and nearly jumping out of his skin; Carol was standing and waiting by the door with a smile on her face. She giggled at his surprise and moved closer, carefully wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him, standing on tip toes.

"Thank you for a wonderful weekend," she released him and stepped back, still smiling. He gave her one of his half smiles and nodded.

They both grabbed a shower before heading to bed, exhausted from a long but very enjoyable weekend. Daryl was fast asleep and snoring by the time his head hit the pillow. Carol wasn't so lucky; she was tossing and turning in her own bed, the aching in her lower back was only getting worse, turning into a throbbing pain. Something was wrong, she knew it. Sitting up, she gasped in pain and stumbled her way to Daryl's bedroom, knocking on the door before opening it. She couldn't stand up straight and the pain was escalating still. Daryl jumped awake and sat up at the knock on his door. Carol was standing in his doorway, hunched over and clearly in a lot of pain, her worried eyes seeking his.

"Daryl–" she gasped out before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she crumbled to the floor.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: I'm a terrible, horrible, awful person, I know. Just remember, if you kill me, you'll never find out what happens next. :) Don't worry too much though, whatever it is, it's not terminal. Any guesses?

Also, HURRAY they've taken the leap! That's gotta count for something right? Right? . . . Okay then, I'm just gonna go start on the next chapter before I've got a riot on my hands. Toodles!


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **You guys are amazing, you know that? Not one rotten tomato or sharp, pointy pitchfork! I know I haven't responded to your reviews but I figured you'd appreciate me writing this chapter instead. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

As she crumbled to the floor Daryl was sure his heart stopped; he was terrified.

"Carol!" he leapt from his bed and knelt next to her, unsure of what to do.

Panic was threatening to overwhelm him but he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus. If the pain was bad enough to make her pass out, she needed a hospital and he wasn't going to wait for an ambulance. Grabbing his jeans from the floor he pulled them on before carefully picking Carol up and setting her on the bed. She wasn't wearing anything but some shorts and a thin-strap tank top so he wrapped her up in his blanket before scooping her up again and heading out the door.

Daryl managed to gently maneuver her into his truck before getting in himself and taking off towards the hospital. He was pretty sure he was driving like a maniac and breaking all sorts of laws but it was the middle of the night and there was little traffic in the city. Carol groaned and whimpered; her eyes opening. She was still in incredible pain, tears filling her eyes and streaming down her face.

"Oh God, it hurts," she whimpered pathetically. Daryl couldn't stand the way she sounded, voice thick with agony and he was even more frustrated that he couldn't do anything about it.

"We'll be there soon," he mumbled, reaching across the truck and taking her hand. Carol grasped it tightly before lying down and curling up across the seat of the truck, her head close to his leg. She was in too much pain to care about proper vehicle posture and trusted Daryl to get her to the hospital safely.

By the time they reached the hospital his right hand was numb; he could tell when a wave of pain passed through her as her grip got tighter. Daryl pulled his hand from hers and got out; he was parked at the Emergency Room entrance. He grabbed a wheelchair from inside the door and wheeled it out to the truck before helping Carol sit down, still wrapped in his blanket, and taking her inside.

The ER was surprisingly empty for a holiday weekend involving fireworks and Daryl was beyond grateful. The receptionist gave him paperwork to fill out which he struggled through with Carol's help; the stress of the night was making it hard for him to focus but he managed to get it done for her. He was surprised to learn he was her emergency contact when she told him to put his information down for that section.

"I don't have anyone else . . ." she mumbled quietly, embarrassed. She didn't have any family left or other friends to call on. Daryl didn't say anything but it saddened him to know she was all alone, save for him.

He finished the paperwork for her and gave it to the receptionist then returned to his truck to park it properly before he got a ticket. When he returned, Carol was being summoned back by a nurse and Daryl was grateful they didn't have to wait long to be seen. He wasn't sure if he should go back with her or not, everything in him _wanted _to stay by her side but he didn't know if that's what she wanted. Carol looked up at him and smiled weakly and that look was all he needed. He grabbed her chair and followed the nurse to an exam room.

**-**TWD**-**

Monday morning was dawning when they finally had a diagnosis and treatment plan. Carol was admitted into the hospital after a CT scan and urine analysis confirmed she had a large kidney stone. A nurse helped her into a hospital gown and into the bed before hooking her up to an IV with pain meds flowing into her system. The pain wasn't gone completely but the meds took the edge off and Carol didn't feel like she was dying anymore. The doctor had her drinking plenty of water and scheduled her for shock wave lithotripsy (SWL) later that morning because the stone was too large to pass on its own. He wanted to try to break it into smaller pieces with that treatment first but if it didn't work, she would need surgery to remove the stone.

Carol tried getting Daryl to go home and get some rest but he refused to leave her side. She was too tired to put up much of a fight and Carol was happy he wanted to stay anyway. Instead, she closed her eyes and let her head fall back into the pillows to get some rest before the treatment she was scheduled for in a couple of hours.

When she woke, Carol was greeted by the adorable sight of Daryl leaning over her bedside, fast asleep, head resting on his arms. Glancing at the clock she knew she'd be taken downstairs for the shock wave treatment soon. She smiled softly at his sleeping form and reached to stroke the hair away from his forehead. He jerked awake at the unexpected contact and she pulled her hand away, embarrassed.

"Sorry," she whispered, glancing away sheepishly.

Daryl was a little embarrassed too. While he'd come a long way with physical contact, he still didn't react well if it was unexpected. He gave her an awkward smile and reached for her hand again, holding it gently.

A short while later another nurse came in to take Carol downstairs. She helped her into a wheelchair and smiled reassuringly at Daryl, telling him it would only take about an hour. He still looked anxious but Carol squeezed his hand before letting go and the nurse pushed her from the room.

The hour felt like an eternity to Daryl. He spent about five minutes in his chair, knee bouncing wildly before he stood and paced across the floor, arms across his chest and chewing on his thumbnail. She had really scared him last night; he had no idea what was wrong with her and all he could keep thinking was _This can't be happening. Not now. _Even though they now knew what was wrong and were treating it, a lot of that anxious energy was rising up again without her soothing presence to calm it down.

**-**TWD**-**

Just as the nurse promised, Carol was returned to him within an hour. When the door to her room opened Carol glimpsed a very anxious-looking Daryl pacing across the floor but the second he saw her, he relaxed and stopped pacing; she smiled at him softly. After the treatment, the doctor had ordered further imaging tests to see if it worked and he would be in shortly to share the news. Carol was helped back into bed and Daryl returned to his seat. Not long after she was re-settled, the doctor came in with her results. Nervous, she grasped Daryl's hand; she didn't want to go through surgery. They were both grateful when the doctor skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the results.

"Looking at the scans, I'm sorry to say that the lithotripsy was unsuccessful in getting the stone to break and we're going to have to perform what's called a nephrolithotomy to remove it."

"Skip the big words doc and speak English," Daryl snapped, he knew it wasn't good news and wanted to understand what was going on. Carol stroked his hand to calm him down and gave the doctor an apologetic look. But he didn't take it personally, he was used to it.

"It's a simple surgery that involves putting a tube in the kidney, sending a probe through the tube to grab the stone and pull it out. You'll stay in the hospital for one to two days at least. When you go home it will be another week of bed rest and you'll be able to return to work soon after that."

The surgery discussion continued for a little while; the doctor going over risks and other details. Carol hadn't eaten since dinner time yesterday so he wanted to get her into surgery later that afternoon; the sooner the better before the stone started causing serious damage. After the discussion, the doctor left telling Carol she would be prepped for surgery and wheeled to an operating room in a couple hours.

She was devastated. Carol wasn't scared of surgery; the idea of going to sleep and never waking up seemed like a good way to die compared to some, even if she wasn't ready to go yet. But she had no idea how she was going pay for all of this or if she was even going to have a job with all the time she was going to be gone. She looked at Daryl, the worry evident in her eyes.

"How am I going to pay for all this?" Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, "Am I even going to have a job with all this missed time from work?" She looked absolutely miserable.

"Hey," he spoke gently, "Don' worry 'bout all that shit right now. Jus' focus on one thing at a time, a'right?" While he was petrified, Daryl didn't want her to know that, figuring she had enough on her plate without trying to comfort him about _her _surgery. Carol nodded, looking down at her fumbling hands.

"Since I'm going to be here awhile, would you mind bringing me a few things from the house?"

"Sure, whatcha need?" Daryl didn't want to leave but he hated sitting around, doing nothing too.

"Some clothes, my toothbrush, maybe a book or two?"

**-**TWD**-**

Daryl didn't leave until after they took her down to surgery; he knew he wouldn't have been able to handle waiting and needed something to distract him. He was so nervous he almost had no qualms about rifling through Carol's underwear drawer. _Almost._ Until he pulled the drawer open and got an eyeful of satin and lace. The woman really did love the sexy stuff. Face burning, he grabbed a couple of everything and stuffed it into a small bag praying he didn't pick wrong. Her regular clothes were easier, Daryl just grabbed a couple t-shirts and some sweat pants – Carol told him that would be most comfortable to wear after the surgery. He grabbed her toothbrush and the current book she was reading plus another one before packing a bag of his own; he wasn't leaving her alone at the hospital except to work.

His timing couldn't have been better; he got back to her room just minutes before Carol returned. Her bed was rolled back into place and the wheels locked, the nurses setting up her IV and getting her settled.

"She did great, there were no problems. She's still pretty groggy from the anesthesia and she'll probably sleep through the night," the nurse told him quietly to keep from disturbing Carol. "We'll be in periodically to check on her. Will you be staying?" He nodded at her and she left to retrieve a pillow and blanket for him.

The room had a small couch and he tried to get some shut eye but it wasn't very comfortable and he was still recovering from the events of the day. Once again he'd surprised himself; Carol getting sick had revealed a protective nature in him he didn't know existed. Daryl was still learning just how deep his feelings went and the realization had him reeling. And he was terrified; terrified at how quickly things were changing, terrified that he was going to screw something up. He was so scared and a part of him wanted to run away. But he knew it was too late for that, he couldn't go back to the way things were before Carol. Before her, he wouldn't say he was content but he was okay. Now, at the thought of going back to that life, it looked cold and _lonely_; he knew he couldn't go back to that. Daryl could only go forward and hope.

**-**TWD**-**

The next day Carol was sore and groggy but doing well. She managed to eat and keep the food down; she was able, with a nurse's help, to get up and use the restroom too. Given her progress, the doctor told her she would likely be able to leave the next morning. Daryl had once again called the diner and taken care of explaining what was going on; he was happy to tell Carol she still had a job waiting for her when she returned. He had an afternoon and evening shift to work through but he promised he'd return after that. But before he left for work, they spent the morning together and he started reading _Call of the Wild _to her because he knew it'd make her happy to have him read to her. Carol was still pretty groggy and fell in and out of consciousness but Daryl kept reading and she was soothed by the sound of his voice.

Work made the day pass quickly and he was grateful when it was time for him to clock out and get back to the hospital. Carol was already fast asleep, book in her lap, when he got there. Daryl gently pulled the book out of her hands and set it on the tray table next to the bed. She looked so calm and peaceful which he was grateful for given the hectic day she'd had yesterday. He toed his boots off and took his place on the couch; the sound of her breathing had him asleep in no time.

Wednesday morning dawned and Carol was happy to be getting out of the hospital. The doctor had given her and Daryl both instructions for post-op care – she was ordered to stay in bed for the next week and continue drinking plenty of fluids; she was scheduled for a follow-up appointment in a week. No heavy lifting or strenuous activity for a few weeks either.

Driving home was a far less exciting affair than the drive to the hospital Sunday night. Daryl tried to avoid every bump and pothole he could but the occasional jolt was unavoidable and he didn't miss Carol's flinch every time they encountered one. By the time they arrived she was hurting pretty bad and leaned heavily on him for support to get into the house and into bed.

Once he got her settled, Daryl went to the pharmacy to pick up her prescription for pain meds and returned home. He let her rest while he fixed something simple for dinner, figuring she wouldn't be too hungry and settled for a bowl of soup and some crackers. He set the food and a glass of water down on the side table before rousing her from sleep. Carol's eyes cracked open and he smiled at her.

"It ain't breakfast in bed but it'll have ta do," he said softly. Her lips quirked up in a half smile but it turned into a grimace as she tried to sit up. Daryl helped her get the pillows behind her so she could sit up before carefully handing her the bowl and a spoon. He sat on the end of the bed eating his own meal and watching her carefully. Carol ate what she could before downing some pain pills and finishing off the glass of water. She was ready to go back to sleep and settled into the pillows, closing her eyes.

A few hours later her full bladder woke her up. Carol sighed and opened her eyes; she was surprised to find Daryl asleep on the floor in his sleeping bag. She shook her head, smiling, touched by the sweet gesture. But she really didn't want to wake him just to walk ten feet to the bathroom. Carol thought she'd be fine but the moment she swung her legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand she couldn't stop the groan of pain from escaping her lips and Daryl was awake in an instant.

"What are ya doin'?" he grumbled, still half asleep.

"Bathroom . . ." she whispered sheepishly. Daryl rubbed his eyes and got up. He sat beside her on the bed, wrapped his arm under her shoulders and her arm around his neck before slowly standing up. She was soft and warm against his side and she felt light as a feather to him. He helped her to the bathroom before leaving her alone to do her business and he smiled as it reminded him of the previous weekend and helping her then too.

Daryl got her back to bed but before he let her sleep again he knew he needed to change the bandages on her back as the doctor instructed him to. Carol sat with her legs over the edge of the bed and he sat behind her. She drew her shirt up to reveal her lower back and the bandage stuck over the incision site. Carefully he peeled it off and Carol hissed as it tugged at her skin. It didn't take long before he had it off and was rubbing the ointment she was given over the wound, trying to be as gentle as possible. Daryl felt so awkward touching her like this; he was glad her back was to him otherwise she'd see how red his face was.

As he was placing the new bandage, Daryl's eye caught something else. A faint white line starting on her left side and disappearing up her shirt; before he knew what he was doing his fingertips touched it softly. Carol's spine stiffened and she gasped softly; he withdrew his hand immediately.

"'M sorry," he mumbled, scrambling to pick up the small mess from the new bandage so he could get up and leave her alone. He was afraid he'd messed up terribly.

But Carol's hand reached back and grasped his own, replacing it on her back. She drew up her shirt more, drawing it up to her bra line and Daryl could see the scar in its entirety. Starting from the lower left quadrant, it snaked across her spine and ended at her ribs on the right side. His fingers traced it from start to finish and he didn't miss the goosebumps rising on her skin and she shivered. _She has scars too_. It wasn't the only mark on her skin but it was the worst.

Daryl swallowed thickly; this was extremely intimate for him. He knew what she was doing; Carol was showing him another part of herself that she hadn't shown anyone else.

"Ed came at me with a knife once . . . but he was so drunk he didn't do much damage," she whispered. Her voice was thick with emotion and Daryl could tell that she was shaking but so was he. This was so personal, so intimate; the significance wasn't lost on him.

Thinking about Ed reminded her of their encounter at the prison a few weeks ago and his threat about appealing his case and getting out of jail. Tears filled her eyes at the thought of going back to court again and the possibility of him returning to wreak havoc on her life. A sob escaped her throat and the tears spilled over.

"What if he comes back? What if he gets out of jail and–" Carol sobbed again, unable to finish her sentence.

Daryl hated himself for bringing all of this up; she was supposed to be recovering from major _surgery_ and his curiosity had her sobbing about her son of a bitch ex-husband. He hated seeing her upset and didn't know what to do until suddenly, he did. He was scared and shaking but forced himself to get over it in order to fix this mess. Slowly, Daryl scooted forward until his chest was pressed against her back and he gently wrapped his shaking arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Shhhhh, we'll figure it out," he whispered. Carol sniffed and turned her head towards him; she could feel his shaking and knew how significant it was for him to initiate contact like this.

"We?" she asked; he smiled softly.

"Yes, 'we.'"

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: Daryl playing nurse, isn't that adorable?! Just picture him in one of those old-fashioned nursing hats. XD And awww, the first hug Daryl instigated himself! Progress folks, we have progress! Hope you enjoyed.

Review?


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **I'm so excited for this chapter guys. I hope you love it as much as I do!

Thank you for reading, for all the lovely reviews, and all faves/follows.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Carol placed her arms over his and leaned into his chest as much as her sore back would allow. She wanted this moment to last for as long as possible. Carol was so touched by the sentiment of his proclamation. _We._ She didn't know what she did to deserve such a man but she would cherish him. She cherished the strength he gave her, this new woman she'd become since he entered her life. Before Daryl, Carol couldn't even look in a mirror; she was ashamed of that weak, scared, little woman with bruises on her face. But now, now she could look and see without feeling sad or disgusted. She liked what she saw and, sometimes, she was even proud and confident about the woman staring back at her.

When he heard her yawn Daryl figured she should probably get back to sleep and moved to let go and pull away. But Carol's soft grip on his wrists stopped him.

"Stay?" She whispered softly.

Daryl's heart started pounding at the simple question, his palms getting sweaty and he froze. A part of him _did _want to stay; he loved the way she felt against him and he wanted to be right next to her. But another part, a bigger part of him, simply wasn't ready for that kind of intimacy and he hated himself for it; hated how scared he was to get close to another human being. But a few kind words and sweet patience wasn't enough to take away a lifetime of pain and insecurity. Carol felt him freeze and knew she'd pushed just a little too far.

"It's okay, I understand . . ." she said quietly, letting go of his arms and he withdrew them. Sadness filled her heart knowing he still had a long road ahead of him but she was determined to help him walk it.

"'M sorry . . ." he mumbled. Daryl was slumped with his hands sitting beside her on the bed; his head was down, forehead resting against her shoulder. Carol almost twisted to look at him but managed to stop herself before causing pain to lance up her back; instead resting her hands on his.

"Come look at me," Carol spoke softly, tugging on one of his hands until he relented and slowly got up and stood before her. She tugged on his hands again, "Down here, face to face," her voice was still soft and gentle and Daryl complied again, crouching beside the bed his hands on either side of her knees. Slowly, Carol lifted her hands and cupped his face, looking directly into his eyes.

"Don't be sorry. Not for this," her thumb stroked his cheek and she smiled a soft smile. "The day will come when I don't have to ask and I'm willing to wait. However long it takes, okay?"

Daryl stared at her a moment before slowly nodding his head. Carol knew a part of him didn't believe that yet, didn't completely trust that she'd stick around to help him unload all the baggage he was carrying. But she already knew she wasn't going anywhere; as sure as she was sitting on that bed, Carol knew she wouldn't hurt him like that. _Couldn't _hurt him like that. She didn't know about fate or destiny but for whatever reason, they'd crossed paths and only good had come of it for the both of them. Carol wasn't going to walk away from all he'd done for her and she wasn't going to walk away from the hard work of helping him heal. And someday, Daryl was going to realize that too.

Carol released him and he helped her get comfortable again before retreating to his sleeping bag on the floor. When she awoke the next morning he was gone but he'd left her several water bottles, some snacks, and a sandwich in a baggie for lunch. He'd also put a couple books on the nightstand as well as a walking stick leaning against it for the inevitable trip to the bathroom. Her heart melted at his thoughtfulness and a sweet smile lit up her face. No, she wasn't going anywhere.

**-**TWD**-**

"Hookah, you means ta tell me you two been shacked up for months now and you still ain't _shacked up_?" Lafayette was staring at her skeptically, an eyebrow raised and playful smirk on his face.

Carol was towards the end of her first day back to work after ten days of rest. She still wasn't allowed to do any heavy lifting and was relegated to menial tasks that allowed her to sit down. Currently, she was sitting in a booth folding napkins with Lafayette who was finished with kitchen duties and came to see how she was doing. Daryl was working at the motorcycle shop and had asked Lafayette to keep an eye on her when he dropped her off that morning. He needn't have asked though; Lafayette was quickly becoming a friend to the pair and he enjoyed Carol's company. She had no idea how he managed to steer their conversation to her sex life but she wasn't surprised and leveled his question with a coy smile.

"No, we have not _shacked up_," Carol rolled her eyes at the term. "We're taking things slow," she said and Lafayette snorted.

"Honey please, you two are like the Benjamin Button of couples – already livin' together like an old married couple. Soon ya gonna regress into the honeymoon stage and start screwin' like rabbits," Carol laughed, tears coming to her eyes. Lafayette did have a point though; she and Daryl were pretty domestic already.

"Oh, I doubt that Lafayette. Some people just aren't eager to jump right into bed," Carol smiled, glancing up, her eyes catching something behind Lafayette.

"That is _bullshit. _Humans is animals and like ta fuck just like everything else," Lafayette countered with a flirty smirk. "And I tell you what, you wait much longer to jump him an' you won' have to worry 'bout it no more 'cuz I'll be happy to ride that Dixon," he grinned at the double meaning and Carol's face turned ten shades of red, hiding a laugh behind her hands.

"Sorry Lafayette, ya ain't my type. I'm flattered though," Daryl's dry remark startled Lafayette who turned to see Daryl standing behind the booth with a smirk on his face, although there was some pink in his cheeks. Lafayette turned back to Carol with a mock angry expression on his face.

"Bitch, ya knew he was standin' there and didn't tell me?" He wasn't really embarrassed, _nothing_ could embarrass Lafayette.

"Sorry, I just couldn't resist," Carol was still holding back giggles, grinning behind her hand.

"Hookah, I'll remember dat," Lafayette said, getting up but he winked at her before walking away.

"Ready ta go, woman?" Daryl asked, offering his hand to help her up.

"Yes, I'm starving. That pot roast ought to be good and tender by now," Carol replied, taking his hand and walking with him to the truck.

Walking in the front door they both thought it smelled like heaven. Carol had put a roast in a crock pot with veggies to slow cook all day while they were at work and by the smell of it; it was good and ready to be eaten. While she pulled out plates and silverware Daryl thumbed through the mail he pulled from the mail box on their way in, pulling a couple envelopes from the handful and tossing them onto the table.

"Got a couple letters with yer name on 'em."

"Hm," Carol set the table and grabbed her mail, opening the first envelope she came to. Reading it about half way through, she sat down and looked up at Daryl who was standing at the counter, unplugging the crock pot to move it to the table. "This is a letter from my landlord . . . My apartment's finished . . ." Carol spoke the last part quietly but Daryl heard it. He just stood silently, not looking at her but she did catch his nervous glance.

Carol didn't want to go back to the apartment but she didn't know what Daryl wanted. She knew they were together now but was living with him still a temporary arrangement? Maybe he put up with having her so close because she didn't have any other options but now that she did, maybe he wanted a little more space between them? Fear and doubt crept into her mind; her thoughts swirling and she felt the letter crumble in her tight grip. She had to ask him but was terrified of his answer. Carol took a deep breath that did nothing to calm her nerves before uttering a question she wasn't sure she wanted the answer to.

"Do you want me to go?" She couldn't stop her voice from shaking and he heard the fear in her voice.

Daryl looked at her, surprised. He was afraid she wanted to go back and was waiting for her to tell him when she'd be leaving. Strange as it was to have a woman living in the house, he'd grown used to her rather quickly and enjoyed having someone around in the evenings after work. Daryl was surprised, used to be he _wanted _to be alone, wanted everyone to stay away from him and he was startled to realize how lonely he'd been. He didn't want to go back to that. But he realized Carol needed to hear him say it, she needed reassurances too.

"Stay?" he asked shyly, mimicking her question from days ago. Carol's face lit up with the brightest smile he'd ever seen and she would have jumped from her chair if she wasn't still healing. Instead, she stood up slowly and walked towards him, keeping her eyes on his. Carol knew when it came to more than a touch of hands, she had to be careful not to startle him; Daryl still wasn't used to a whole lot of physical contact and didn't like surprises. She sauntered up to him and wrapped her arms around him in a hug, listening to his heartbeat through his chest. It didn't take him long to return the gesture but he was also the first to pull away, turning and taking the crock pot to the table.

Carol let him go and grabbed the other envelope from off the table and glanced at the return address before her face went pale. It was from Ed's attorney. With shaking hands she tore it open and began to read. A strangled sound escaped her throat and caught Daryl's attention.

"What?" He asked and Carol looked at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Ed, h-he's appealing his case . . . We're going back to court," the tears started to fall and she tore up the letter in her hands in frustration. Carol was tired of crying because of him. Daryl approached and, swallowing his nerves, reached towards her face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs; he was tired of Ed making her cry too. Carol leaned into his touch but only slightly, she didn't want to press her luck.

"That asshole is gonna rot in jail, we'll make sure of it, a'right? No more tears fer him," he growled; his tone fierce. Carol could almost feel his anger but she wasn't afraid, she knew it wasn't directed at her. She nodded at him mutely before he surprised her by pulling her in for another hug. Carol loved the way his strong arms around her felt, she loved taking in his scent, a mix of so many things but mostly earth. But mostly she loved sharing these tender moments with him knowing he didn't share them with anyone else; it made her feel special. And to him, she was.

Both of their stomachs growled, interrupting the moment and they laughed, stepping apart.

"Enough drama, I'm starvin,'" Daryl said, serving up a plate and handing it to her.

"Agreed."

**-**TWD**-**

It was Labor Day weekend and this time Carol had succeeded in dragging Daryl to a community get-together. Lafayette had asked for her help with a barbecue at the park and she told him she would. Carol intended to go whether or not Daryl was coming with her but she was happy when he'd grumbled a 'fine' and told her he'd go. He figured she'd braved the woods for him on the Fourth of July; he could return the favor and put up with people for an afternoon at the end of summer.

Currently he was sitting on the tailgate of his truck, sipping a beer and watching her and Lafayette cook over a grill while chit-chatting with other women he didn't know. They were planning some sort of girl's day out and he wanted no part of that. He was happy that she was making friends though; he liked seeing her laugh and smile, she seemed to be a natural at socializing.

"Your lady over there?" Daryl was pulled from his thoughts, glancing away from Carol and towards a voice to his right. A heavy set black man with a gap between his front teeth and a friendly smile on his face greeted him. He grunted an affirmative and turned his attention back to Carol. "Name's Theodore but everyone 'round here calls me T-Dog or just T."

"Daryl," was his short reply.

"So which one is she?" T-Dog asked, leaning back against the tailgate, sipping his own beer.

"The one pullin' meat off the grill."

"Oh, Carol. My cousin Lafayette said she'd be helpin' him. I talked to her earlier; she's a real nice lady. Got yourself a good one there," T-Dog said and Daryl only nodded in response but T-Dog caught the small smile quirking his lips and smiled knowingly. Daryl had it bad, he could tell with the way his eyes never stopped watching her.

A whistle from Lafayette summoned folks to their table; Daryl and T-Dog hopped from his truck and made their way over. Carol smiled brightly at him and handed him a plate full of food.

"Making friends?" She teased. She'd seen him talking to T-Dog and she was glad to see him pushing himself out of his reserved comfort zone.

"Maybe," he smiled, reaching for a bite of food. "Looks like you been makin' plenty for the both of us," before he could grab it with his fingers, Carol shoved a fork in his hands, rolling her eyes but smiling.

"I have, let me introduce you," Carol hooked her arm through his, carrying her own plate and they walked to the table to sit down. She pointed out an Asian kid wearing a ball cap named Glenn sitting next to a pretty country girl, Maggie, who was apparently his girlfriend. Next to Glenn was an old man wearing a fisherman's hat, his name was Dale. And next to Dale was a blonde woman who was smiling but there was sadness in her eyes; Andrea. "She just lost her sister in a car accident a month ago," Carol whispered. Sitting on the other side of the table were Lafayette and T-Dog, Carol sat next to T-Dog and Daryl took his place beside her at the end of the table.

"Alright bitches let's eat," Lafayette proclaimed.

As usual the food was amazing with Lafayette and Carol at the helm. Daryl didn't participate in the conversation much, just observing and enjoying his meal. Carol was happy to be making friends and he was content with that.

"Hey man, I can see why you picked this one," T-Dog called to him. "This food's amazing Carol; you're a woman after my own heart."

"Thank you T. But if you want me, you'll have to go through him first," Carol laughed, leaning into Daryl's side; he was glaring at T-Dog over her head.

"No contest there," T-Dog threw his hands up in mock surrender and Daryl relaxed his glare realizing it was all just banter, not serious. That didn't stop him from tentatively raising his arm and placing it around her shoulders, drawing her closer. Carol looked up at him, surprised at his public display. She knew what he was doing; he was letting the world know she was taken. Carol returned the gesture, her own arm wrapping around his waist, head leaning on his shoulder content smile on her face; he was taken too.

**-**TWD**-**

A few hours later they returned home, loaded with containers of leftovers. Daryl leaned against the wall watching her put the containers in the fridge. She was humming and had a smile on her face and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like seeing her so happy.

"Ya have fun today?"

"I did," she glanced at him before turning back to the fridge. "And I'm happy you came with me," actually she was extremely proud of him for straying out of his comfort zone with people. She closed the fridge and turned to stare at him before giggling and he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I'm so proud of you," Carol approached him and wrapped her arms around his waist, chin on his chest, staring up at him. Her eyes spotted something and before she even thought to stop herself, Carol was standing on her tip toes and licking her thumb, wiping at the corner of his mouth.

"You uh, you had a little barbecue sauce on your face . . ." her eyes met his, nervous smile playing on her lips. Her cheeks were pink, a little embarrassed at her act of brave stupidity, he could have reacted very badly but instead remained very still. Daryl hadn't tensed up, he was just looking down at her, surprised; their faces were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek but her eyes were on his mouth a question forming on her lips. "Can I . . . can I try something?" Carol figured she was already this close, wouldn't hurt to at least ask.

Daryl's heart started pounding; he could hear the blood rushing behind his ears. He knew what she wanted to try and his breathing picked up, his shoulders and spine tensing. He'd already pushed himself out of his comfort zone today, why not push a little further? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath trying to will his fear away and nodded, opening his eyes again. Carol gave him a soft smile that soothed his fears a little before drawing her hands up and holding his face gently. Slowly, she brought her face closer to his, holding his gaze before pressing her lips against his own.

Daryl couldn't stop himself from jerking his head back and Carol let him go, stepping away and keeping her head down to hide her disappointment. She didn't blame him, she understood, but that didn't stop her from feeling unwanted. Daryl hated his reaction and wanted to throw his fist through a wall in frustration. Instead, he took another deep breath to calm himself; he wasn't going to let his fear win. He reached out and drew her chin up to look at him, embarrassment clear on his features. He could see the self doubt on her face and hated himself for putting it there.

"Try again?" His voice shook and she could tell he was fighting to stay calm, fighting to get past his fear but her heart soared at his efforts and she smiled and nodded. Carol replaced her hands on his face and repeated the process of slowly bringing her face closer, eyes staring into his until her lips pressed against his again in a soft kiss. Daryl forced himself to stay still until he finally relaxed and returned the kiss before drawing away. Carol stared up at him, smile on her face, pride shining in her eyes, her thumb stroking his cheek. He returned her smile with a shy one of his own.

Two phones ringing startled them out of the moment and Daryl dug in his jeans pocket for his cell phone while Carol pulled hers from her purse, they glanced at each other with bewildered expressions before answering. Daryl moved to the living room to take his call and Carol stayed in the kitchen. Neither was on the phone very long before hanging up and staring at each other in silence for a moment before speaking at the same time.

"Ed's dead."

"Merle's in the infirmary."

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: Oh look, another cliffhanger. Don't worry too much about Merle though, he's a badass.

Hurray, their first kiss! Writing that was so awesome! My heart was pounding with Daryl's, ha ha. Hope y'all liked it. :D

And I thought it was high time these two lovebirds started interacting with others, Carol needs some friends! And who better than folks we're already familiar with? Can't say they'll be huge in this fic, actually pretty minimal but I did think it important to give Carol some people to do girly things with; her partner can't be her only friend in life, ha ha. Daryl, on the other hand, is perfectly content with just Carol but hey, at least he'll come out of his shell a little for her. ;)

Review?


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **Holy shizballs guys, I can't believe how close I am to 200 reviews already! Wow, that happened fast! Thank y'all so much!

Sorry for the wait on this chapter; it was unusually difficult for me to write. But we're goin' back in time a little so you get to see what happened with Ed and why Merle's in the infirmary.

**Note: **"Three sheets to the wind" is a phrase or expression that refers to someone being extremely drunk. Since I use it in this chapter I thought I'd clarify in case someone's never heard that expression before. :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Merle could always sense a storm coming, could tell when things were about to get ugly. It was damn near a sixth sense; he could just _feel _something in the air change. He knew when his daddy was about to go off, he knew when a bar brawl was about to break out (if he wasn't the one starting it, anyway). That innate ability to detect trouble had saved his skin on more than one occasion and he'd learned to listen to his gut. And right now his gut was telling him shit was about to hit the fan.

Merle was sitting in the cafeteria with the rest of his cell block, eating lunch, when the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He kept up his casual appearance but glanced around, sharp eyes picking up on tensions brewing between other inmates. A storm was comin' and Merle knew it was going to be a bad one.

Sure enough, within minutes a fight broke out and it didn't take long for things to escalate into a full-scale riot. Screams and shouts reverberated off the walls and the room became deafening as chaos turned everything upside down. Merle didn't move to get up, he continued to sit and observe, eyes searching for someone in particular; he'd been waiting for an opportunity to rough Ed up.

But his eyes never found him. A thick arm wrapped around his throat and dragged him from the bench before dropping him to the floor; Merle's head hit the concrete hard and he saw stars. And then there he was, the ugly bastard staring down at him with a sneer curling his lips. Apparently, Ed had the same idea to take advantage of a prison riot to let off some steam. Merle was almost too dazed to roll out of the way as Ed slammed his fist down; he howled when it met concrete instead of flesh and Merle laughed. His laugh was cut short when a foot slammed into his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs and cracking at least one rib. Merle coughed and wheezed, trying to catch his breath but Ed was on him again, straddling his chest.

"Think you and your dumbass piece a' trash brother can take what's mine?" Ed snarled; both of his fists were bunched around Merle's collar, his face inches away, spittle flying. "I'ma teach that little bitch a lesson; show her what happens when you fuck me over. Gonna start with _you_. Then I'm gettin' outta here and I'm gonna make her watch as I tear that trailer trash brother a' yers apart," Merle almost laughed at that thought until Ed cackled and kept talking. "Oh, and the _things_ I have planned for her . . . That bitch is gonna wish she was dead," he cackled again, wicked grin splitting his face, dark eyes gleaming, and Merle's blood ran cold. He'd seen a face like that before; it haunted his nightmares.

His heart started pounding, his chest was on fire, and his head was throbbing something fierce. But the only thing Merle knew was the red he was seeing. No way was he allowing another monster to get near his brother; he'd made that mistake enough times, he wasn't making it again. And Merle may not have known Carol too well yet but he _did _know what she was doing for his brother and he owed her for that; she was a helluva woman in his eyes. Merle didn't know how she ended up with a prick like this but he wasn't going to let Ed get near Carol and destroy the first good thing to happen to his brother.

Ed choked as a hand wrapped around his throat and the next thing he knew, Merle had rolled them before dragging him up by the throat and drawing his face close to his own. Merle had been dying for a riot like this so he could get away with beatin' the guy's face in, just to rough him up and warn him to stay away from his brother and Carol. But the second he saw that grin, the moment he saw the monster underneath, those plans changed. Ed was going to die today.

"Ya ain't gonna do any a' that shit, motherfucker. Your stupid ass made the mistake a' comin' after me first. And it's the last mistake you'll ever make," Merle growled, steely gaze locked on Ed.

The chaos of the riot camouflaged their conflict; angry, testosterone-fueled men surrounded them but also ignored them, engaged in their own battles. Merle lifted Ed off the ground; Ed stared at him, terrified, and Merle only glared in return. He didn't find any joy or satisfaction in killing another man but Merle would do anything to protect what he cared for and he already knew what would happen if Ed lived. He'd seen the results of that before. Not again. _Never _again. With all the strength he had, Merle shoved Ed away, aiming for the metal table he'd been dragged from. With a sickening crack, the back of the bastard's head met the edge of the table and the force snapped his neck; Ed's body slumped to the floor.

Merle stumbled, his head spinning with a million different thoughts but they were all overwhelmed by a throbbing pain in the back of his skull. Drawing his hand up, he felt the back of his head before looking at his fingers, they were red.

"Sonofabitch," he mumbled, the floor coming up to meet him and then he knew darkness.

**-**TWD** -**

Merle had a concussion, a few stitches, and a couple broken ribs; otherwise he was fine and would be released from medical later that day. Currently, he was waiting for his brother and Carol to show up; he knew they'd been called about the riot and were coming to see him.

The minute Carol stepped into the room and took a glance at Merle, tears filled her eyes and she rushed to him, enveloping him in a tight hug. Merle shot Daryl a confused look over her shoulder and he shrugged, just as lost as Merle was.

"Oh Merle, I'm so sorry," Carol pulled away to look at him, sitting on the edge of his bed.

"Hey girlie, what ya sorry for?" This was new for Merle, usually when women threw themselves at him they were already three sheets to the wind and they certainly weren't crying on his shoulder. He wasn't used to anyone showing actual concern for him.

"Ed did this to you . . . A-and he wouldn't have if–" Carol started.

"Huh uh, don't start that shit. Ed started this an' I finished it. Ain't nuthin' to do with you," Merle interrupted her; his fierce gaze was shockingly similar to his brother's. "Least now he won' bother ya no more," Merle said, his voice getting softer. Carol nodded and wiped a stray tear from her face.

"Carol, can I talk to my brother alone for a minute?" Daryl asked. She nodded and patted Merle on the arm, giving him a small smile before turning and walking away to wait outside. Merle didn't miss their hands brushing as she passed his brother. But as soon as she was out the door, Daryl was glaring at him and growling in his face. "What the fuck, Merle?! What were ya thinkin' killin' that prick?!"

"Oughta show some gratitude little brother. I jus' saved you an' that girl a' yers a lotta trouble," Merle replied, his voice low and dangerous. His baby brother was actually _pissed_ at him for killing that fucker?

"At what cost, Merle?! You was s'posed to be gettin' outta here in less than two years!" Daryl snapped and suddenly it became clear to Merle – Daryl didn't want to lose his brother because of an asshole like Ed Peletier. "Now what? Ya gonna spend the rest a' your life in jail?"

"You listen here, little brother an' you listen _good_," he growled. "I ain't sorry that prick is dead and I ain't sorry I's the one that did it. I'll die or rot in jail 'fore I jus' let shit happen again . . ."

"The hell you talkin' about?" Daryl wasn't following his brother's train of thought and stared at him, confused. Merle sighed and dropped his gaze, this was getting uncomfortable fast. But since being in prison, his head was clear, clearer than it had been in years. Merle could have gotten his hands on more drugs in prison if he really wanted to. But something in him changed the day he had to walk away from Daryl in that courthouse; he was tired of failing his brother. And it was time Daryl understood that.

"All that shit we went through with dad . . . what he done to you . . ." Daryl flinched and swallowed hard, looking away; this was the closest the two brothers had ever come to talking about what happened all those years ago. "Ed was the same kinda twisted prick. I couldn' let that happen again . . . I've let ya down enough times," he muttered and Daryl's head snapped up, surprised and a little speechless. It took him a few minutes to respond.

"Ya did the best ya could Merle . . . Even with all the fucked up shit that happened, I always knew ya cared . . ." Daryl mumbled. "An' what he did . . ." his throat was getting tight, "tha's all on _him_," he growled. Merle nodded but he wasn't convinced. Daryl couldn't take his guilt away any more than he could take Daryl's shame. But at least they had come to an understanding with Ed and why Merle did what he did.

They lapsed into a long silence; nothing left to say. Neither brother could believe they were having this pansy-ass discussion and talking about _feelings _and shit they'd tried to bury years ago. But Merle was done with the touchy-feely shit; the awkward silence was irritating.

"A'right, enough with the mushy crap. Git Carol back in here 'fore we both die a' bein' pussies," Merle snapped, his voice returning to normal. Daryl snorted and rolled his eyes but he was relieved to be done with that conversation; they both were. Leave it to his brother to break awkward silence with his way with words. Carol returned to the room and resumed her spot sitting next to Merle on his bed.

"So what's gonna happen now? Are you . . . are you going to get a longer sentence?" Carol was afraid of the answer but wanted to know anyway.

"I dunno . . . Told the cops it was self defense, din' mean to actually kill 'im, it just sorta . . . happened when I shoved him away . . . Guess they're gonna review the vids an' see about pressin' charges and we'll see what they decide . . ." Merle wasn't going to hold his breath though, Dixons weren't that lucky.

**-**TWD**-**

When it came time for Merle to be released from medical Daryl and Carol took it as their cue to leave. The drive was quiet for a little while but Carol had a question rolling around in her mind and she needed to know the answer.

"Daryl . . . was Ed's death really an accident?" Carol had a feeling in her gut that what happened wasn't coincidence. Daryl's grip on the wheel tightened and he took a sharp intake of breath. He owed her the truth, he knew that much. But how would she feel knowing Merle did that? Would it drive her away, send her running away screaming? The thought nearly made him sick and a new pain, one he'd never felt before, settled in his chest at the thought of her not being there. He cursed his brother for putting him in this position but he wasn't going to lie, not to her.

"He wasn' plannin' on it, no . . . but it wasn' an accident either . . ." he mumbled.

"I don't understand," Carol was staring at him but he kept his eyes on the road. Daryl was terrified, so terrified that this would send her away. Carol picked up on his distress, one hand had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel and he was practically chewing his thumbnail off the other hand. Even though he wasn't looking at her, Carol could still read his eyes and they were full of fear. She didn't exactly understand what he was suddenly afraid of but it upset her to see him that way. Carol removed her seatbelt and scooted over to him and buckled in to the middle seat. "Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me," her voice was soft and she drew his hand away from his face and held it between her own hands on her lap; she was leaning into his side and staring up at him. It took him a few minutes but Daryl found his resolve and started talking.

"Merle blames himself for what happened with our daddy . . . for not always bein' there ta protect me, I guess . . ." he started. Carol didn't understand yet but knew she would and waited patiently. Daryl swallowed hard and continued, "He wasn' plannin' ta kill Ed but . . . somethin' happened in the middle of that fight . . . He saw somethin' in him that was jus' like our daddy and he couldn' . . . Merle couldn' let him live to hurt you or me . . ."

Carol remained silent for the rest of the drive, unsure of what to say or even what to think. Her silence almost unnerved Daryl but she remained by his side and that brought him some comfort. Carol knew what Merle should be considered wrong but she couldn't make herself feel afraid or angry or upset. Merle hadn't been plotting Ed's murder; he didn't kill him on purpose just for the fun of it. Somehow she knew that wasn't at all what he was doing. Carol realized Merle was doing more than defending himself; he was defending his _family_. From a very real threat; of that, Carol was sure.

Daryl pulled into the driveway and walked inside, Carol following him. She could still sense his anxiety and stopped him with a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and she pushed the front door closed behind her before leading him to the couch and sitting down.

"Tell me what's bothering you?" She was holding his hand and staring at him expectantly.

"I'm jus' . . . wonderin' when it's all gonna be too much and you're gonna leave . . ." his voice was soft and he couldn't look at her. Carol squeezed his hand and gently pulled his chin towards her so he'd look her in the eye.

"I told you, I'm not going anywhere. What Merle did . . . it wasn't exactly right but . . . I can't see a whole lot of wrong in protecting what you care about," she reassured him and he relaxed slightly. "And frankly. . . the only thing I can feel about the whole thing is _relief_" Carol looked down, ashamed; tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm relieved that he's _dead_. How sick is that?" she choked and tears fell. Daryl pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her, chin resting on top of her head.

"Don' think like that, Carol . . . ya ain't glad about 'im bein' killed . . . You're relieved that things are finally over . . . He can't hurt ya no more, tha's all. Don' feel bad 'cuz he finally got what was comin' to 'im, alright?" He felt Carol nod and she looked up at him, she still looked unsure. "If it makes ya feel any better . . . I was happy to be free a' my daddy too." Not exactly true. Daryl wasn't feeling a whole lot of anything when his daddy was finally dead but when he and Merle left for Atlanta, when he thought he was free from the monster, he was happy then. Carol nodded again and returned her head to his chest. They stayed that way for a long while; sitting quietly together until Carol finally felt relaxed enough to sleep and moved to go to her room.

Daryl got up and followed her but before she reached the hall, he grabbed her wrist and spun her around. Both of them were disappointed that a day that started out so well had become heavy with drama and Daryl wanted to lighten it up a bit. He pulled Carol to him again; she wrapped her arms around his waist, smirking up at him.

"Gettin' bold, Dixon," she teased softly. He turned pink and looked down, a little embarrassed at what he was about to say.

"I jus' wanted to thank you . . ." she raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, "For my first kiss . . ." his face went from pink to red and he still couldn't look at her. Carol's heart melted at his admission; she had already guessed he was inexperienced given his issues with intimacy but she admired his courage in telling her. But more than that, she was honored he had chosen her to share that first moment with.

"Thank you for sharing it with me," she smiled at him sweetly before her hands moved to his face, forcing him to look at her. Once again, she moved slowly to keep from startling him but was soon pressing her lips to his in a chaste kiss before pulling back. Her expression turned flirty with a smirk, "And there's more where that came from, Dixon," Carol's smirk turned into a full on grin and she walked away, leaving him a little stunned.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: Well, this was a heavy chapter, wasn't it? Sorry for the lack of cuteness, it just didn't seem to fit here and I promise I'll make up for it next chapter. I'll go ahead and put you out of your misery regarding Merle's fate and simply tell you not to worry. I was going to include it in this chapter but I liked this cute ending better.

Love to read what you think! Review?


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **Welcome to another chapter! Thank you everyone for the faves/follows and reviews!

This one goes out to** missdaryldixon **for all those awesome reviews! I love it when someone stumbles onto this fic and reviews every single chapter despite being 24 behind. Thank you so much for taking the time to do that! :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

The end of September rolled around and the courts had made a decision about Merle's confrontation with Ed. A small hearing was conducted within the prison; Daryl and Carol were allowed to attend. Many factors were taken into consideration for the decision but the greatest support for Merle's case was video evidence submitted to the court. They were anxiously awaiting the judge's decision on the matter. He had taken time to review the case and now called a session to share his verdict. Merle stood when the judge asked him to; Daryl sat behind him, nervous, Carol holding his hand.

"Mr. Dixon, regarding this case, you have many factors working in your favor. You were not incarcerated here for a violent crime and the officers I've spoken to about you have nothing but good things to say," Merle almost smirked but kept himself in check. "And that footage showed a man that remained calm when the riot started. It showed a man whose only move was to shove an aggressor away with unfortunate consequences. You did not instigate the attack, you did not throw a punch; you defended yourself. Given the evidence I've reviewed, the only conclusion I can come to is that you acted in self defense and I will not punish an act of self defense when the defendant has not been shown to be violent or uncooperative with officers during his stay here. As such, I rule that you are free to go and serve out the rest of your remaining sentence as you were. This session is adjourned," with that the judge stood and retreated to his chambers.

Merle was stunned. He knew he had a lot of good things going for him but he expected it all to fall through somehow and wind up serving a much longer prison sentence. Turning around, the look on Daryl's face said he thought the same. Neither of them had much faith in Dixon luck but maybe, just maybe, times were changing.

Carol smiled a bright smile and hugged him. Merle was a little surprised she came; he wasn't sure how she felt about things but clearly she was happy with the results. Daryl stood and gave him a relieved smile; he simply couldn't believe their luck.

"See? You's worryin' about nothin' little brother," Merle grinned, putting an arm around Daryl's shoulders. Daryl ducked and nodded, smiling. There was nothing he could say, he was just happy not to be losing his brother.

But the celebration was short lived as it was time for Merle to return to his cell. Carol stepped away to give the brothers a moment and waited by the exit.

"Take care a' yerself little brother. See ya soon," Merle was still grinning and moved to walk away but Daryl's words stopped him.

"Thank you, Merle," he spoke quietly but Merle heard. Their eyes met and the elder Dixon understood perfectly. He knew exactly what Daryl was thanking him for and Merle felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He might be returning to a cell but he was freer now than he'd been in a long time. He might forever carry the guilt of what happened with their father but today . . . today he knew he'd finally done right by his little brother.

"Anytime, brother," he finally turned away and walked out of sight with an officer. Daryl returned to Carol's side and they took their leave.

-TWD-

The sun had barely risen the following Saturday morning and Carol's phone was going off on her nightstand. She grabbed for it quickly and flipped it open, answering with a groggy "Hello?"

"Rise and shine hookah, we's got ourselves that girl's day out we been plannin,'" Carol could _hear_ Lafayette's smirk through the phone; she could also hear talking in the background. "Ya got thirty minutes 'fore we get there an' you best be ready ta go," Lafayette didn't even give her time to respond before the line went dead and she was staring at her phone, perplexed.

She sighed and tossed it back on the nightstand before grabbing some clothes and heading to the bathroom; she almost yelped when she opened her door and nearly ran into a grumpy-looking Daryl. Instead she giggled at his wild hair and his expression softened at her smile.

"Good morning," she greeted him. Daryl decided he liked the way she looked when she first got up; her short hair sticking up everywhere and blue eyes sparkling. _Cute. _Not a word Daryl would ever utter out loud but he couldn't deny that she stirred a desire in him, a feeling that was still incredibly new.

"Who was that callin' so damn early?" he grumbled after muttering his own "G'mornin.'"

"Oh, that was Lafayette."

"'Course it was . . ." Daryl growled, rolling his eyes.

"Apparently he's stealing me away for a girl's day out . . . Is that okay?" Carol asked, somewhat nervous.

"Don' need my permission. Go, have fun," Daryl smiled softly and Carol was once again reminded of the differences between him and Ed. Her ex-husband would have never let her enjoy a day out with friends.

She smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their warm bodies together. Daryl's face turned red knowing she could feel his half-hard cock and her proximity wasn't helping matters. She was just so soft and so warm and he could tell she wasn't wearing a bra under her t-shirt with her chest pressed against his. Christ, he really was turning into a teenage boy again. Carol tightened her hold on him when he tried to pull away, embarrassed, and she waited for him to look her in the eye. Her sweet smile was still in place and she didn't have to say anything to let him know that it was okay, nothing to be embarrassed about. Carol gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling away and heading to the shower trying to ignore the heat pooling in her own belly.

She knew he was far from any serious intimacy but his body's response soothed the fears in her head, the ones that whispered with Ed's voice, telling her no one would ever find her attractive. It didn't silence them completely but they were quieter.

Just as she was pulling her shoes on, Carol could hear Lafayette honking from the street. She grabbed her purse and slung it over her shoulder before glancing at Daryl who was eating a bowl of cereal at the table and reading the comics in the newspaper.

"I'll see you later alright? Have a good day," she smiled brightly and Daryl always got a strange feeling in his chest when she did that.

"You too. Try ta get back before dark, storm's comin," he mumbled, rolling his left shoulder. Carol resisted the "yes _Dad_," joke and nodded before walking out the front door. "And smack that jackass for callin' so early. Next time he pulls that stunt he's gettin' an arrow in the ass," Daryl called after her as the door closed.

"I will," Carol laughed.

-TWD-

Carol hopped into the back seat of Lafayette's car. Maggie was riding shotgun and Andrea was also sitting in the back seat. They greeted each other with small but warm smiles and Lafayette took off towards the mall. The morning was spent shopping until they dropped; Carol and Andrea spent most of their shopping time in the large bookstore browsing books. Carol had to make a trip out to the car to drop off her new library; she'd picked out a few new books, including some she thought Daryl would like. After that, Lafayette dragged them all into the lingerie store before lunch.

"What ya think, Lafayette? Think Glenn will like this?" Maggie asked, holding up a black lace corset. He eyed it up and down, smiling.

"Oh, he'll like it, girl . . . but I bet he won't know how to get it off," he grinned and Maggie laughed, nodding, instead opting for a lace trimmed negligee and satin robe. Lafayette grabbed another corset and held it up to Carol, sizing her up, "This might do the trick to get that man a' yours goin' though, Carol."

Carol snatched the corset away from Lafayette before throwing it at him; her face was bright red but she was smiling.

"How long have you two been dating?" Andrea asked; she was eyeing the store's collection of panties, looking for colors she liked.

"Since the summer-" Carol started.

"But they been livin' together since _spring_. And still they have not _hooked up. _Can you believe that?" Lafayette interrupted; Maggie and Andrea stared at her, a little confused.

"Wait, you guys lived together _before _dating?" Andrea asked and Carol nodded.

"It's a long story but-"

"A very long and boring story because there's no _sex_," Lafayette punctuated the last word with a hip thrust and smirked."You two's movin' slow as _molasses_," he teased and Carol stuck her tongue out at him playfully; she didn't mind his teasing.

"Ain't nothin' wrong with takin' your time," Maggie said, smiling at Carol. "It took Glenn and I awhile to work up to that too," she continued before making her way to the register. Lafayette snorted and rolled his eyes at her but Carol appreciated the kind gesture and followed Maggie to the register with her own purchases, a blue lacy bra with a matching pair of panties.

Carol knew things would be slow-going with her and Daryl but she couldn't help getting excited at the thought of one day getting to show off all the sexy things she owned.

-TWD-

"Amy loved this place . . ." Andrea said softly, a sad smile on her face. They were eating at a seafood restaurant inside the mall. A large, floor-to-ceiling aquarium sat in the center of the restaurant casting a blue glow throughout the dining room. It was well-stocked with all sorts of colorful fish and stingrays of various sizes glided against the thick glass. They were seated at a table right next to the aquarium and Andrea was staring at a small, brown stingray that hovered nearby.

"Oh . . . Why didn't you tell us, we could've picked another place to eat," Maggie asked. Andrea turned to her and shook her head.

"No, it's okay. I don't want to avoid this place, it holds good memories for me," she smiled, eyes glassy.

"It can't be easy trying to move forward but I'm glad you came with us today; it's been a long time since I've gotten to enjoy a day out with friends," Carol placed her hand over Andrea's arm and gave her an empathetic smile; she didn't know the pain of losing a sibling but she knew the pain of losing someone you loved. Andrea returned her smile and then their food arrived which was a welcome change of subject for the group.

"So what's the plan for this afternoon?" Maggie asked before taking a bite of her meal.

"We's gettin' our pamperin' on at the spa. Massages, facials, soaks, whatever you ladies want. And don't none a' y'all start protestin' about the cost," Lafayette quipped, wagging a finger at them, "The owner owes me a favor for callin' me in last minute to cook for her kid's birthday party so I told her I'd be bringin' in some friends today and we'll call it even."

"You don't just cook at the diner?" Carol asked.

"Nope, not enough money in bein' a fry cook. I cater on the side and maybe one a' these days I'll get a business goin' with it."

"That would be amazing! I've never tasted food better than yours," Andrea said; Maggie and Carol nodded their agreement.

"Damn straight you hasn't," Lafayette smirked; humility wasn't his strong suit but the women simply laughed it off and continued their meal.

After lunch they made their way to the spa and Lafayette checked them in for ninety-minute massages. Carol, Maggie, and Andrea made their way to the women's locker rooms to get changed into spa robes before returning to the relaxing waiting room and sipping on cocktails until they were summoned back by their masseuse.

Carol was in heaven. The room was dark and quiet with soft music playing in the background. She'd never had a massage before and the woman working her back had magic fingers. The woman avoided her lower back where the surgery scar was because it was still a sensitive area but everywhere else from head to toe had been turned to jelly with hot oil and skilled hands. Carol had been anxious about baring her back, a little afraid of showing the few scars Ed had given her, but the masseuse was very professional and said nothing about them.

When she returned to the waiting room, the other three had already returned from their massages looking just as relaxed as she felt. Maggie and Andrea opted for some facials while Carol followed Lafayette to the mud baths. She moaned, sinking in to the mud before leaning her head back against the edge and relishing the experience.

"With the way you's glowin' right now, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got a bun in the oven, Carol," her eyes shot open and she gaped at Lafayette; he grinned. "But I do know better . . ." his voice got soft and his grin became a sincere smile, "He makes you that happy, doesn't he?"

"He does," she smiled softly; her heart swelled just thinking about it.

"I'm real happy for you, Carol. I know things with Ed wasn't good and I'm glad ya found somethin' good," Lafayette had known Carol about as long as Daryl had but he remembered the scared little mouse she had been anytime her husband came around. Looking at her now was like looking at a new woman; she smiled more, stood up straighter, and had an ease about her that didn't exist with Ed looming over her.

"Thank you, Lafayette," Carol murmured. "And thank you for today . . . I haven't had friends in a long time thanks to my ex-husband and I'm glad I have you guys too."

-TWD-

Carol rushed through the front door, trying to avoid getting wet as much as possible; a storm had come out of nowhere as they were leaving the mall, dropping buckets of rain on them. She dropped all of her bags by the door before turning and waving a quick goodbye to Lafayette. Carol closed and locked the front door and turned to see Daryl standing between the kitchen and living room, leaning on the doorway and smirking at her.

"Told ya it was gonna storm," he said before turning and walking into the kitchen, Carol followed him.

"And how _did _you know it was going to storm? The weather didn't say anything about rain this morning," she cocked an eyebrow at him, smiling, before hopping up on the counter. Daryl had been washing dishes before she got home and was finishing them up; Carol sat on the counter to keep him company.

"My shoulder, the one that got an arrow through it . . . always aches like a sonofabitch before a storm," he said quietly. Carol nodded her understanding before reaching and tugging on his shirt, pulling him towards her. "What are ya doin'?"

"Come here, I want to try something," she smiled softly before finally tugging him in front of her and pulling him a little closer to the counter until he stood between her knees. Carol always moved slowly and looked him in the eye to make sure he was okay. She reached up with both hands and placed them over his left shoulder and started rubbing gently, kneading the tense muscles under his skin. "I got a massage today and I figure you could use one too . . ." she said softly but he didn't miss the flirty undertones.

Daryl had his palms flat on the counter, his hands next to her hips. Within minutes he found himself leaning into her touch; he could feel the tension and knots getting worked out of his bad shoulder and almost moaned when she hit a good spot, eyes closing and forehead resting on her shoulder. This woman was going to be the death of him.

"Did ya have fun today?" He muttered.

"I did, even brought a little something home for you," she whispered before pulling her hands away and he raised his head to look at her. Their faces were so close and all he could think about was kissing her. Although that's about all he'd been thinking about lately. Other than a quick peck on the cheek here or there, they hadn't shared a kiss since their first ones a couple weeks ago. He knew she was waiting for him to take initiative; could see it in her hopeful eyes anytime they got close. But he didn't know how something so simple could be so difficult for him; he always pulled away before closing the distance, fear holding him back. Tonight was different though, he was pushing that fear away, telling himself to quit being such a pussy and go for it.

He was staring her in the eye and he could see that hope, just as she could see his nerves. Daryl kept his eyes on hers as he brought his face closer until their lips met briefly before he pulled away to look at her, unsure. Carol gave him an encouraging smile so he did it again. This time he didn't pull away and instead closed his eyes, leaning in to it. He felt Carol smile and wrap her arms around his neck, her knees holding his hips. She wanted to deepen the kiss but he pulled away before she could. Carol kept her arms around him and tightened her knees, keeping him close; he gave her a shy smile and she returned it with a sweet one of her own. She didn't have to say anything to tell him how happy she was; he could see it in her face, the way her eyes gleamed, the way that she smiled.

"I was thinking . . ." Carol glanced at him hopefully.

"'Bout what?"

"Well, it occurred to me today that it's been a year since I got away from Ed . . ." Daryl frowned a little; he didn't like bringing Ed into these moments with her but waited to see where she was going with it. "Things have changed so much since then and I . . . I wanted to celebrate my freedom somehow . . ."

"What did ya have in mind?" he asked, smiling; Daryl already knew he'd say yes to whatever it was.

"I was wondering if we could take a ride on your motorcycle . . . Just . . . drive around for a day?" Carol was looking at him with big eyes and he almost laughed at her expression; it was so adorable (another word he'd never utter out loud). She had been dying to get on that bike with him for a long time now and finally found the courage to ask.

"Sure, jus' gotta get ya a helmet first," he was surprised at her request; it was unexpected. Daryl didn't think she had any interest in riding a motorcycle. "Ya really wanna ride that thing?"

"Yep," she nodded before a devilish grin took over her face, "Or . . . maybe I just wanted an excuse to wrap my legs around you," she winked and his jaw dropped, face turning bright red. Carol giggled, unable to resist teasing him, before she carefully moved forward and slid off the counter; Daryl barely moved to let her down and she could feel the effect of her words pressed against her lower belly. Looking up at him she grinned and suddenly she felt his mouth against hers in a hungry kiss that had him pressing her back against the counter.

Her flirtatious words had all sorts of dirty things running through his head but Daryl only had one goal in mind for now. Carol moaned into his mouth and he pulled away, smirking. She stared up at him, eyes wide, out of breath, and face flushed with color; that bold move had her turned on faster than a light switch. But instead of continuing, Daryl walked away grinning, extremely proud of himself for managing to leave her stunned and at a loss for words.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: Hurray, Merle is fine. And I just loved writing that girl's day out! Lafayette is so awesome; I should have known I wouldn't be able to keep him around for just one chapter, ha ha. And we've got a little sexy times going on here too! Daryl's getting braver but he's still got some hurdles to jump so don't get too excited yet.

Tiny little note – the reason I think Maggie and Glenn didn't immediately jump each other's bones is because in this fic, they don't have an apocalypse looming over their heads. No rush.

Anyway, I'd love to know what ya think! Review?


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: **Welcome again to yet another chapter. Thank you to each and every single one of you who reads this story. I don't care if you don't fave, follow, or review; if you've liked this fic enough to keep reading, that's good enough for me. The rest is just really sweet icing on the cake. Seriously though, I love icing, ha ha. ;)

HUGE thank you to **Rabbitheartedgirl88 **for bringing new readers to this fic, I owe you big time! And welcome to all of you who are new to this fic, happy to have you. :) **Littleshelly0619 **this one's for you.

Oh, and uh . . . hold on to your butts. ;)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

It was nearing Halloween before Daryl and Carol managed to get a whole day to spend together on the bike. Their work schedules kept them apart with Daryl working at both the diner and motorcycle shop and Carol taking on extra shifts at the diner to earn extra income to pay off her surgery bills. But they finally had a Saturday off together and were getting ready to leave.

The weather was cooling off from the summer but it wasn't too cold yet. Daryl was sitting on the motorcycle, in jeans and a leather jacket, waiting on Carol to make her way outside. He didn't have to wait long as she walked through the front door and pulled it shut, locking it behind her, before making her way over to him. She wore a heavy jacket to protect her from the wind, a pair of jeans and black, knee-high, flat-heeled, leather boots over those jeans. Daryl swallowed and looked away when she caught him looking her up and down. He had to admit, she looked a little badass.

Daryl handed her a helmet before pulling his own on and scooting forward on the seat so she could climb on. Carol braced herself on his shoulders and threw her leg over the bike to straddle it, keeping her feet on the ground and hands on his shoulders until he stood and kick started the engine, the bike roaring to life. Carol gasped softly, a shiver running up her spine from the vibrations beneath her; this bike was _definitely_ a turn on. Daryl returned to his seat and Carol slid forward, drawing her feet up off the ground to sit on the foot rests and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Daryl's spine stiffened at the contact; having someone pressed against his back was not a sensation he enjoyed. His eyes were closed and he was forcing himself to take calming breaths. _It's just Carol _repeated itself in his mind for several moments until he relaxed enough to focus on driving. He backed them out of the driveway and then took off out of Atlanta to drive the back roads of Georgia. And it was the perfect time for a joyride – fall had set in, turning the trees all sorts of colors. Amazing hues of orange, red, and yellow painted the landscape of rolling hills set against a bright blue sky.

Carol was thrilled. She felt so incredibly _free_ riding on that bike with Daryl; the wind whipping past, the beautiful scenery, the bike thrumming beneath her, his body so close to hers. Carol blushed, thinking about just how close he was, her chest against his back, her legs pressed against his. She giggled at the memory of her dirty joke from those few weeks ago. Carol couldn't believe the things that came into her head with him around; she was almost as surprised as he was at some of the dirty things that came out of her mouth. But she loved it, loved this new, playful, wild side and she especially loved teasing him with it; his facial expressions were priceless.

She hadn't been completely teasing with that joke though; getting to be this close to him was wonderful. Carol relished spending this kind of time with him and squeezed him a little tighter in a hug before resting her chin over his shoulder and watching the landscape fly by. They rode for hours until the sun was in the center of the sky and their stomachs were rumbling. Carol giggled when her hands could actually _feel _his stomach grumbling, even through the leather jacket.

Daryl stopped in the middle of nowhere, pulling the bike off the road and rolling it a ways away, parking it next to a tree. Carol pulled a small blanket from one of the saddle bags on the bike and laid it out on the ground before retrieving food for their lunch – sandwiches, a baggie of strawberries, and two bottles of water. They ate in contented silence, sitting next to each other and looking out over the field they had parked next to, watching the tall golden grass sway with the wind.

Carol leaned into Daryl; silently thanking him for today, a day she knew would forever be a treasured memory. He looked down at her, watching her munch on strawberries before he smirked and grabbed her hand with a half-eaten strawberry in it and took the last bite for himself.

"Hey!" She frowned up at him in mock indignation but he could see the smile she was trying to hide and grinned at her.

He pulled another strawberry from the baggie and held it up to her mouth. Carol glanced at it before taking a big bite, fruit juice running down her chin. His eyes darkened at the sight and Daryl nudged her face up with his finger before his tongue darted out, licking her chin up to her lips before pressing their mouths together.

The move floored Carol. She was so shocked she didn't respond for a few seconds. But his initiative ignited a fire in her and her hands wrapped around his neck bringing him closer and she tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. Carol traced his lips with her tongue, seeking entrance and Daryl opened his mouth to her. He was still new to the art of kissing with tongue but Carol was happy to teach him; he was a fast learner. Daryl was doing fine until she leaned back, taking him with her to the ground and started exploring him with her hands.

Carol's fingertips were ghosting over his torso, the light touches meant to be soft and sweet but they only made his skin crawl. He froze and she stopped, sensing his shift. Carol stared up at him, confused, and he pulled away; she returned to her sitting position, trying to erase the disappointed look on her face. Daryl had been getting braver with their kissing over the last few weeks but any time her hands came away from his face or from around his neck and started to touch him, he pulled away, unwilling to go further. Carol didn't understand what the issue was but her gut told her there was something more, something under the surface that she didn't know. She wanted to understand, she wanted to help him move past whatever it was, but Carol was afraid of pushing him. She wanted him to be ready for these sorts of things on his own time, not hers.

Daryl was frustrated and embarrassed with himself. He _wanted _to go further but every time, every single time Carol started touching him like that he just couldn't take it. Holding hands, gentle touches on his arms and face, kissing . . . those were all _new_ experiences; untainted. But hands touching him, fingers brushing against his body, that wasn't a new experience. Unfortunately, that sensation was associated with his darkest memory and it was proving an extraordinary barrier to get past. Daryl could see the questions in her eyes but just the _thought_ of opening his mouth had his throat closing and he looked away, sighing. He knew he was disappointing her.

Suddenly, a strawberry appeared in front of his face and his eyes returned to Carol. She had a soft smile, the one that said _I understand_ and he smiled softly in return, taking a small bite from the strawberry. Carol leaned up to him and kissed his cheek before leaning her head on his shoulder and twining her fingers with his. He was still disappointed in himself but her patience meant the world; he didn't know how she got past these awkward moments so gracefully but he was grateful.

They sat awhile, enjoying the quiet company. Daryl pointed out a few female deer meandering their way through the field but sticking close to the tree line. A handsome eight-point buck was following them, eager to make them his mates for the season. As they drew closer though, Daryl decided it was time to leave and helped Carol pick up their stuff and get it back in the bike.

"Gotta be careful roun' deer during ruttin' season," he told her, folding up the blanket. Daryl knew she loved learning what he knew about wildlife and the outdoors and he liked sharing his knowledge.

"Why?"

"Ya don't wanna get between a buck and his doe," he replied, grinning. Carol nodded thoughtfully before smirking at him and raising an eyebrow.

"Sounds about like any man I know. Only got one thing on the brain," she grinned and Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Uh huh, that's why _you're _the one makin' dirty jokes all the time, right?" Carol's mouth fell open to respond but she simply couldn't think of a clever retort. He smirked when he realized he had the upper hand in this playful conversation. But a devilish grin split his face when a dirty thought occurred to him and he brought his face closer to hers, whispering in her ear, "Admit it, ya only wanted ta ride that bike today 'cuz ya wanted somethin' big an' powerful between those legs."

He pulled back and the grin he had on his face was one of pure smugness. Carol's jaw dropped and her eyes grew wide with surprise, her face flushing red; Daryl committed that expression to memory knowing she'd put the same one on his face many times and he was proud to return the favor. He turned and walked away towards the motorcycle as Carol recovered from her shock and eventually followed him.

Daryl had the bike started and his helmet on with the visor up, he was still grinning at her with that smug smile. Carol smirked back, not one to let him win that easily. Calling on her inner vixen she sauntered up to him, leaned down and leveled him with a seductive smirk, fingers pulling on the chin of his helmet, drawing him closer. She didn't miss his eyes glancing down her shirt.

"Oh, there's only one thing I want to _ride_, Dixon," her voice was husky and Daryl swallowed. "But for now I'll settle for this bike," she grinned at him before standing straight and sliding his visor down. Daryl shook his head and grinned; he had to admit she won this round. Carol slid on behind him and they took off towards home but he took his time getting there. He was in no hurry for the day to come to an end, it was yet another good memory that Carol had given him.

-TWD-

Every year before the holidays Carol was in the habit of deep cleaning the house, wanting her home to look especially nice for those times and Daryl's house was no different. With Thanksgiving coming up in a couple weeks, Carol decided to spend her day off cleaning the house from top to bottom. She started by dusting off ceiling fans and getting rid of cobwebs in hard-to-reach corners. Next, Carol moved on to walls and windows, cleaning out the sills and washing away scuff marks that seemed to magically appear out of nowhere. The kitchen was scrubbed to a sparkling clean, as was the bathroom. She did round after round of laundry including their bedding before making their beds with the fresh sheets and blankets. Carol dusted off every inch of furniture and wiped down the baseboards with a damp cloth before moving on to vacuuming.

Pulling out the vacuum, one she'd had to purchase herself when she realized Daryl didn't have his own, Carol started in the back hallway and bedrooms, leaving the living room for last. She had to laugh when she got to the living room and started moving furniture around to vacuum underneath; it looked as if, in all the time he'd lived there, the furniture had never been moved. The feet of the couch had left deep impressions on the carpet and there was even a color difference between where the couch sat and where it didn't. But something else caught her eye, something half-hidden under the couch. It was red, made of dense rubber, and cone-shaped with bite marks. She had no idea what it was and figured she'd ask Daryl about it when he got home, dropping it on the couch. She also had no idea the havoc it would wreak.

Finally, Carol moved on to the last chore of the day – cleaning the kitchen floor. Down on her hands and knees with a bucket of soapy water and scrub brush Carol washed every last inch of the linoleum, getting it as clean as the day it was installed. As she was finishing up the last bit of floor between the kitchen and living room, Daryl returned home. Walking through the front door he dropped his keys on the table next to the door and toed off his boots, admiring the work Carol had done until his eyes landed on her.

"Someone's been busy today," he smiled, pretending to ignore the nice view of her ass from where he was standing.

"Yep," Carol sat back, wiping sweat from her brow, "Got the whole house and this floor was last on my list," she dropped the scrub brush into the now dirty water bucket before peeling off her gloves and dropping them in as well. "Dinner's in the fridge if you're hungry, just gotta heat it up. Other than this spot here," she gestured at the part she just finished, "the floor should be dry."

Daryl walked up to her and leaned down to greet her with a kiss on the forehead before making his way around her and over the wet spot to get to the fridge. Carol stood and stretched, moving the water bucket out of the way to be dealt with later. She made her way into the living room but called out to Daryl before he could touch the fridge.

"Don't you dare touch anything in that kitchen before washing your hands, Mister!"

"Yes, Ma'am," Daryl grinned and washed up before pulling a foil-wrapped plate from the fridge. Tearing off the foil he popped it into the microwave and set the timer, leaning on the counter to wait. Carol had already eaten and was ready to relax for the evening. She flopped onto the couch and something hard dug into her shoulder. Confused until she remembered what she found earlier, Carol grabbed the object and stood up to walk back to the kitchen, calling out a question to Daryl.

"Hey Daryl? What is this?" A completely innocent question with unfathomable consequences.

Daryl walked around the corner from the kitchen, hot plate in hand, and spotted what she held. It took him a moment to realize what it was. _A chew toy._ Daryl's face paled when he recognized Duke's favorite toy, obviously lost and long forgotten about until now. Where the hell had it come from?

Memories long since locked away broke free of their dark confines and barreled through his mind with the force of a freight train. With everything else that happened, Daryl had nearly forgotten about Duke. Seeing the dog's favorite toy dragged _every _nasty memory of his final confrontation with his father to the surface. Who knew such an innocent thing could trigger such chaos?

The plate Daryl was holding slipped from his fingers and shattered in front of him. He sank to the floor after it, eyes squeezed shut and clutching his head as memories he'd tried to forget about assaulted him. The toy had acted as a trigger, causing a severe flashback, and Daryl was caught in the midst of it.

"Daryl? Are you alright? What's wrong?"

Confused but concerned, Carol dropped the toy and approached him, kneeling down next to Daryl. She moved to place a comforting hand on him but the second her palm touched his back, he lashed out.

"_Don't touch me_," he snarled, wild eyes glaring at her but it wasn't Carol he was seeing. His palm slammed into her stomach, shoving her away and knocking the breath from her. Carol fell backwards, her lower back hitting the narrow wall between the kitchen and living room. A sharp cry escaped her as pain lanced up her back from the still-sensitive surgery spot.

The sound sent a jolt through Daryl's chaotic mind and snapped him out of the flashback. He looked at Carol with a mix of fear and horror on his face. He hit her. He _hurt _her. A strangled cry escaped him as he backed away, looking sick and shaking. Carol was still too winded to even so much as lift a finger to reach out to him, to try to figure out what was happening.

All Daryl could think to do was run. Get away from her. Get away from what he'd done. Get away before he did it again. Before she could stop him, Daryl grabbed his keys and bolted out the front door, not even bothering with his boots. Carol heard his bike roar to life and Daryl took off, disappearing into the dark of night.

A sob escaped her, followed by many more and tears streamed down her face. She was so lost and confused with what just happened and had no idea how to make sense of it. Carol was scared she'd done something terribly wrong. She was afraid it was all over, that she had broken something beyond repair and lost something precious to her, lost the man she _loved_. A choked gasp escaped when she made that realization. She was in love with him. Carol wished she hadn't realized that because it only made the situation worse; made it hurt _more_ knowing things could be shattered and lost forever. She drew her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and cried, praying that it wasn't over.

-TWD-

Daryl drove for hours, his mind a mess of horrid memories and jumbled emotions. He didn't care that he didn't have a helmet or shoes; he didn't care about the cold or the gathering storm clouds across the night sky, threatening rain. Everything was torn apart and he just drove. He wasn't paying any attention to where his subconscious was taking him until he was deep in the Georgia mountains; staring at what was left of his father's house. The roof had caved under a fallen tree. Slowly but surely, the earth was consuming the man-made structure. The wood was rotting away and vines covered most of the crumbling exterior.

He sat and stared for a long time before stumbling off the motorcycle and making his way around back. Despite the dark and how much time had passed, Daryl was still familiar enough with the surroundings to make his way to where the shed had once stood. Thunder rumbled overhead as cold rain started to fall and Daryl simply stared at the monster's final resting place, oblivious to the weather.

"Why did you do this to me?" Daryl asked quietly, pain welling up inside. "What did I _do_?" He moaned, sinking to his knees. Tears spilled down his cheeks as sorrow consumed him. Silence was his only answer and Daryl's sorrow soon turned to rage. Rage at what had been done to him, rage towards a monster that would never give him the answers he sought.

"_Answer me!_" he roared, tearing at the ground with his fingers. He clawed and dug and tore at the earth searching for answers he'd never find. He wanted to dig the monster up just so he could kill and bury him again.

He would never be normal. He couldn't interact with people like a normal person; he couldn't trust them. And the one person on the planet he'd learned to trust was probably long gone after hurting her. He couldn't even look at a goddamn _dog toy _without having a fucking meltdown. And he couldn't enjoy intimacy because his father had tainted that too. He would never be _normal_. Daryl beat his fists on the ground, screaming and yelling at a monster who could no longer hear him. He continued to claw wildly at the muddy ground until his fingers could dig no more and his anger was spent. He slumped over, tired and defeated.

"Why did you hate me?" He whimpered, dirty hands clutching his head as sobs forced their way from his throat. He was broken and he would never understand why.

-TWD-

Carol didn't sleep a wink. After pulling herself together, she picked up the small mess on the floor and threw it away along with the cursed object that had started the whole thing. She knew she wasn't going to sleep and tried to read a book but only stared at the same page for hours. Troubled thoughts haunted her mind and she was worried sick about Daryl and eventually found herself throwing the book across the room in frustration.

Dawn was breaking and still he had not returned. Carol was pacing across the floor, heart heavy with grief and worry. Nothing about what happened made sense and still, she was afraid he wanted her gone but she wasn't going anywhere until she knew he was alright. The sound of an approaching motorcycle stilled her steps and her heart start beating furiously. The rumble drew closer until she heard him pull in the driveway and cut the engine. Carol stood by the couch and stared at the door, waiting anxiously, hands gripping a shawl around her shoulders.

Slowly, the door opened and Daryl shuffled in, head down and he just stopped in the entryway closing the door behind him. He didn't move until he heard a soft gasp and he looked up, surprised to see Carol standing there, worry evident on her face. She approached him slowly, cautiously; his disheveled appearance was very concerning to her. Covered in mud from head to foot, tear tracks were evident on his face, and his eyes were red-rimmed; he was a mess. But as she got closer she noticed he was soaking wet and shivering.

"Oh my God, Daryl, you're freezing! C'mon, we need to get you warmed up before you get sick, okay?" She was standing next to him and carefully placed a hand on his arm trying to pull him forward but he refused to move.

He shook his head no and sank to the floor; Carol went down with him, her heart breaking at the look of anguish on his face as new tears spilled over and she realized his shaking wasn't purely from the cold. Throwing caution to the wind, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, stroking his muddy hair and rocking him gently.

"Shhh, it's okay. It'll be okay," she whispered. She held him for the longest time until he calmed down and even after that they stayed where they were for awhile.

"Why did he do this to me?" He muttered; voice hoarse and scratchy, raw.

"What did he do?" Carol asked quietly. She was almost terrified of his answer but she was determined to help him see this through. Daryl pulled away, looking down at his hands.

He had to tell her. He realized that he couldn't afford to keep shoving it away; the night's events had made that much clear. And when he'd walked in the door and saw her standing there, he realized she had been true to her word – she wasn't going anywhere. And that realization was the final blow to the walls he was holding up. They were crumbling to the ground, revealing the worst wound he'd ever received; the worst pain he'd ever known.

"I thought I was free of 'im . . ." he mumbled quietly. "When Merle an' I left, I thought we was free . . ."

"But you weren't?" Carol nudged when he'd gone silent, still struggling with getting the words out. Daryl shook his head, still unable to look at her.

"No . . ." he swallowed thickly, trying to push past his tightening throat. "Merle was out partyin' one night . . . an' he jus' showed up, outta nowhere . . . Dragged me back home after killin' my dog," Carol's breath left her in shock, "that was Duke's favorite toy ya found . . ."

He paused again, knowing the worst was yet to come and took a deep breath.

"He got me home an' did all sorts a nasty things . . ." Daryl gave a mirthless laugh, "Kept me chained up, starved me, tortured me right in front of Merle," Carol gasped and recoiled, horrified. Who could do such a thing?

"How-?"

"Merle figured out where I was but daddy knew he would an' got the jump on him . . ." He looked at Carol then. And the agony she saw in those blue eyes was killing her. He was laying himself bare before her and the raw pain and torment she saw was agonizing for her too. A sinking feeling in her gut told her this wasn't everything, not yet. But she steeled her resolve and waited for him to continue. Daryl looked away and started shaking anew.

"He . . ." he swallowed thickly as the emotions bubbled up again, "He raped me." Daryl could barely get those words out but when he did, over ten years worth of shame and pain came with it. A sob tore out of his throat and almost instantly he was back in Carol's arms, holding on to her tightly as the pain crashed over them both.

All at once Carol felt as if the floor had fallen from beneath her as everything clicked into place. Tears of her own spilled down her cheeks and she cried for the broken man in her arms. Cried for the pain he'd been put through, cried for his loss of innocence, cried for the love he'd never been given. She held him tightly wishing she could take it all away and it pained her even more, knowing she simply couldn't.

"We killed him . . ." Daryl muttered when he finally calmed down again. And that was it; that was everything.

Carol simply nodded and kissed the top of his head, stroking his cheek with her thumb. That revelation didn't faze her one bit, it rolled off her back like water off a duck. She just couldn't look at this broken man in her arms and blame him for finally escaping from the Devil that haunted him.

They sat in silence for a little while longer; neither had anything to say. Daryl was spent, emotionally exhausted and Carol was still processing everything. But when she noticed the cold seeping into her body she slowly drew them up off the floor and led him to the bathroom and turned on the shower. When the water was warm Carol pulled him in after her, neither of them caring about being fully clothed. Carol pushed him under the spray and took each of his hands, slowly and gently scrubbing the dirt and blood off while he stood silently. She had to reach but managed to run her fingers through his hair getting the muck off his scalp. When he was sufficiently clean and warmed up again, Carol turned off the water and wrapped him in a towel before grabbing one for herself. She grabbed his hand and led him to his bedroom before pulling some clean night clothes from his drawers and setting them on his bed. Daryl just stood there, silent and awkward; he didn't really know what he was feeling or how he should feel; didn't know what to say or where to go from here. He was drained.

"I'm going to go put on some dry clothes and I'll be right back, okay?" she said softly and he nodded. When she returned he was in dry clothes and sitting on his bed looking lost and unsure. Carol sat down next to him, twining her fingers with his.

"I din' think ya'd still be here . . . after hurtin' ya like that," he mumbled and Carol leaned her head against his shoulder.

"You're not like Ed, Daryl. You didn't mean to hurt me, you didn't enjoy it," she said quietly, looking up at him. "And I told you, I'm not going anywhere," she smiled softly.

"I know," he said, and he did. After tonight, Daryl finally trusted that Carol wasn't going anywhere.

"Get some rest, we definitely need it," Carol kissed his cheek and moved to go crawl into her own bed but Daryl didn't let go of her hand and she looked back at him.

"Stay?" He asked softly, looking at her with unsure eyes; she felt his hand tremble. Daryl knew she wasn't going anywhere but he wanted to be close to her right now. After what had just happened he found himself yearning for her soothing presence; he needed her. Carol's heart instantly became lighter and she smiled at Daryl, that bright smile she reserved only for him and she nodded, cupping his face in her hands and kissing his forehead.

He stood and drew the blankets back; she gestured for him to crawl in first and he obeyed, lying on his back. Carol followed him and, after searching his face to make sure he was okay with it, she scooted close, pressing her body into his side and laying her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Carol was almost instantly lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of his heart and Daryl simply enjoyed having her so close.

He lay awake for awhile longer, thoughts drifting through his head. He didn't know what to make of everything but what he did know was that he felt lighter. After more than a decade of holding onto a deep-seated pain, he was letting it go and Carol had helped him achieve that. He would always bear the pain of what his father did but it was becoming a scar now; the wound was closing and healing as much as it could. Daryl looked down at the woman snuggled into him and tightened his arm around her; he drifted off more content than he'd ever been and he knew it was because of her.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: My longest chapter yet! *cheers* Please, please, pretty please tell me what you thought about this chapter with a review?


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **Welcome to another chapter! This one's dedicated to **Tinkerbell99**, thank you for all those lovely reviews and welcome to the party. :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

A sliver of sunlight streamed from the window and fell across their bodies in the otherwise dark room. It was the dawn of Christmas Eve and they were both stirring from their slumber. Carol had her back pressed against Daryl's chest and his arm was wrapped around her waist; she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. Her own arm was resting over his and she started drawing circles on the back of his hand with her finger when she sensed his return to awareness. Daryl tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer, and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her neck.

"G'mornin,'" he mumbled; voice thick with sleep.

Carol almost let out a gasp when she felt his morning erection pressing into her backside but managed to keep silent. Other than sharing a bed, the two of them had kept their intimate moments to a minimum since Daryl's admission a month and a half ago. He was still raw from the emotional breakdown and Carol sensed that he needed a little time to decompress and let his mind calm. She had continued to stay close and reassured him with gentle touches but she was going to let him decide when to heat things up again; let him tell her when he was ready.

"Good morning," she responded, turning her head to look at him and smile, ignoring his pressing hardness. Daryl knew she could feel him and was so relieved she didn't make a big deal of it and continued to act normal. "Whatcha got planned for today?" She asked, turning around completely, holding her head up on her hand.

"Nothin' really . . . Jus' enjoyin' time off from work," he shrugged. "Ya said you was goin' out today with Maggie though, right?"

"Yep, she had some last minute Christmas shopping to do and wanted company. Plus I gotta get a few things for our dinner tomorrow; I want it to be perfect for you," Carol had been stunned a couple weeks ago when Daryl admitted he'd never celebrated Christmas before. But she really shouldn't have been surprised his father had denied him yet another joy of childhood; it just made her heart ache for him even more. She was going to remedy that this year.

"You could make cardboard taste like steak, Carol. Sure it'll be good," he smiled at her and Carol blushed at the compliment, smiling shyly. A buzzing sound on the nightstand drew their attention and Carol picked up her phone.

"Text from Maggie. She'll be here in an hour so I better get ready to go," Carol said, flipping her phone shut. She tossed the covers off before gasping sharply and drawing them back over herself and burrowing into him. She hated getting out of bed in the winter, it was always so warm and cozy under the covers and the sensation of colder air hitting her skin instantly had her shivering.

Daryl just laughed and threw his own covers off and carefully climbed over her, disappearing to the bathroom. Carol heard the shower come on and Daryl returned soon after that holding her bath robe out to her. Where to keep the thermostat set for the house is one area they disagreed about but Carol didn't fight him on it since he was the one paying the bill. And Daryl kept her comfortable with extra blankets around the house to wrap up in; he was also nice enough to get the shower warmed up for her in the mornings.

"Here, so ya won' freeze ta death walkin' ten feet," he teased and Carol stuck her tongue out at him before snatching the robe from his hands, putting it on. She made her way to the bathroom to get ready and Daryl went to the kitchen for a bowl of cereal and newspaper comics.

-TWD-

The mall was packed with frantic shoppers trying to get the last of their shopping done. Carol's arms were heavy with shopping bags and she was sure her fingers had gone numb from lack of circulation. Maggie was no better with the amount of bags she carried; they were doing their best to waddle from store to store, maneuvering between throngs of people carrying their own stuff. Eventually, the two friends made it to a seating area; they both looked at each other and laughed, dropping their bags to the floor.

"I'm thinkin' we should get a cart for all this stuff," Maggie said, dropping onto a bench and rubbing her wrists.

"I would have to agree," Carol replied, shaking some feeling back into her numb hands. "Why don't you stay here and I'll go grab us a couple?"

"Sure," Maggie was happy to take a short rest while Carol retrieved two carts from nearby.

Carol had grabbed a couple of carts and was about to return to Maggie when one of the hall vendors caught her eye and she approached. He was selling beautiful, customized Christmas ornaments; an idea popped into Carol's head and she smiled. _Perfect._

"Hello, Ma'am. Anything I can help you with today?" The vendor was a kindly older gentleman and Carol could tell by looking at his hands that his ornaments were hand-crafted.

"Yes, actually. These ornaments are beautiful and I'd like to know if I can get one made in time for Christmas tomorrow?"

"Ya sure can. Just tell me what you'd like and I'll get started right away," he replied. A ten minute conversation later, Carol had her order placed and returned to Maggie with the shopping carts, a grin on her face.

"There ya are. Thought ya got eaten alive by a horde of people or somethin,'" Maggie grinned, taking her own cart and filling it with her purchases. "Ya get everything ya need? I think I'm covered."

"Yep. But there's one other thing I'm waiting on and it should be ready by the time we get done with lunch," Carol replied, getting her own bags into her cart.

"Great, I'm starved!"

The two women made their way to the food court and settled on a bar and grill restaurant. It didn't take long for them to get seated and drinks ordered while looking over the menus for food.

"So what's with all the Christmas deco you bought? Our place has been decked out since Thanksgiving," Maggie asked, sipping her drink.

"Well, um . . . I wanted to surprise Daryl with it tomorrow . . . He's never really gotten to enjoy Christmas before," Carol said quietly, she really didn't want to get into _why_ he'd never celebrated Christmas before, that wasn't her story to tell; her secret to share. Maggie sensed her unease and held back the questions she wanted to ask; she could tell it wasn't her business to know why.

"I bet it's a really great surprise for him Carol; that's a sweet idea," Maggie smiled warmly and Carol was glad she understood. "Glenn tried surprising me last year by decorating the tree himself," she giggled at the memory. "Walked downstairs to find _him _all tangled up in the lights! Worse than a kitten and a ball of yarn!"

"How does that even _happen_?" Carol laughed.

"I dunno but I thought he made a better lookin' tree so I plugged him in and put the angel on his head," Maggie grinned as another round of laughter consumed them. Their food arrived shortly thereafter and they were silent for a little while, enjoying their meals.

"Lafayette went back to Louisiana for Christmas right?" Carol asked and Maggie nodded.

"He'll be back for New Years though. Speaking of, ya goin' with him to the party downtown? Glenn and I were thinkin' about going."

"I don't know, hadn't even thought about what we'll be doing for New Years. I'll talk to Daryl about it," Carol replied. A night out with friends sounded like a lot of fun but she wasn't sure what Daryl would want to do.

"I hope y'all do. I've never gone to the city for New Years before, sounds like a lotta fun," Maggie said and Carol nodded.

They finished their lunch and headed back to the hall vendor where Carol picked up her package; it was already gift wrapped with a beautiful bow tied around the box. Afterwards, they left the mall, heading to Maggie's house to spend the afternoon wrapping presents. By the time Carol returned home it was dark outside. She hid most of what she bought in the truck for later; only taking in the groceries she needed for their dinner tomorrow.

Daryl was nearly asleep on the couch when Carol returned home but he greeted her with a smile and stood up, stretching before following her into the kitchen to help. He put a pot of eggs on the stove to boil for deviled eggs while Carol rolled out dough to make pie crusts. The rest of their evening was spent in companionable silence working together in the kitchen, getting their meal ready for the next day. The turkey he'd caught was ready to be put in the oven the next morning, the deviled eggs were finished and stuck in the fridge but not before Carol could stop him from stealing one, she had an apple pie baked and resting on the stovetop for dessert. Carol grabbed his sneaky hand inching towards the pie and fixed him with a don't-you-dare look which he returned with a lopsided grin.

"That pie better be there when I get up in the morning," she warned, leading him out of the kitchen before letting him go.

Carol moved towards the hallway to go to her, no, _their_ room and change into some comfortable clothes. She grinned at that little thought before everything went dark; Daryl's rough hands were covering her eyes.

"What are you doing?" She giggled.

"Got a surprise for ya," he said, walking her down the hall, "No peeking." A hand left her face and Carol obediently kept her eyes closed as Daryl opened the door to their room and walked her in. A moment later he removed his hands and Carol opened her eyes.

The breath left her body as she took in the sight. Bookshelves. An entire wall now had floor-to-ceiling bookshelves built into it. And the books that had been sitting in boxes on the floor since bringing them from her apartment were now stacked on those shelves. All except one compartment was filled with books. The center compartment had something else even more precious – a baby album and a glass box holding the Cherokee rose he had given her almost a year ago.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered in her ear. Carol spun around, tears in her eyes and the biggest smile on her face. She wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug and he hugged her back.

"_Thank you_," Carol whispered. This was truly one of the greatest gifts she had ever been given. "It's amazing," she drew back to look up at him before kissing him softly then resting her head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat and the warmth of his arms around her.

-TWD-

"Daryl? Time to get up, sleepyhead," a sweet voice was calling him from sleep and Daryl opened his eyes to Carol's bright face. "Merry Christmas!" She beamed, looking excited and he couldn't help but smile at her. "C'mon, get up!" Carol tugged on his arm and he relented, sitting up and rubbing his eyes before climbing his way out of bed and following her to the living room. He stopped cold in the hallway, just staring, wondering what world he'd just stepped into.

Carol had gotten up early, retrieved the hidden bags from the truck, and spent the morning redecorating the entire living room with Christmas decorations. There was green tinsel and colorful lights everywhere, a giant red bow on the front door, a couple stockings on the wall; a tiny Christmas town had taken over the table next to the door, complete with fake snow and tiny people. But sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch was a small Christmas tree with white lights and a small angel sitting on top. Underneath the tree was a single box with a beautiful bow tied around it.

She led him to the couch and handed him the box before sitting down next to him, watching expectantly. Daryl glanced at her then down at the box.

"Open it."

Slowly, he pulled the ribbon until the bow came loose before pulling the lid off the box and staring down at the first Christmas present he had ever received. Nestled in velvet was a deep red sphere decorated in gold. Beautifully scripted lettering read "Our first Christmas" and instead of the usual frilly patterns found on ornaments, this one had arrows, books, and fireworks; things that meant something to him and their relationship. Daryl carefully pulled it from the box and hung it on one of the branches of the Christmas tree before turning and smiling at Carol. She had completely taken him by surprise with all of this and he was blown away.

"Thank you, Carol," he said, wishing he knew how tell her what this meant to him but she could tell, just by the look in his eyes and the sound of his voice, and her heart swelled with pride and happiness. She was glad she was able to give him something so special.

-TWD-

The day was drawing to a close and they were both nestled on the couch watching the last few minutes of A Christmas Story. When the credits rolled they got up and headed to the kitchen for the long awaited apple pie. Carol pulled a can of whipped cream from the fridge to top it with but a wicked thought struck her and she pulled the cap off before spinning around and shooting Daryl with a stream of fluffy sugar, hitting him square in the chest.

She laughed at his surprised yelp before a glob of it was smeared down her front and she gasped, mock outraged, as he grinned at her, licking his fingers. She pointed the can at him again and managed to get his face before he snatched it from her hands and she was covered in whipped cream too. They went back and forth for several minutes until the can was empty and they had no more to throw at each other. Then they burst into laughter staring at each other and how ridiculous they looked.

Eventually they calmed and Daryl wet down a towel for them to wipe down with, cleaning off their faces and hands but their clothes were another story. Carol followed him to their room for some clothes and was about to head to the bathroom to change but Daryl's hand on her arm stopped her. Looking at him, Carol could see the tone had changed from lighted-hearted and playful to serious.

He pulled her towards him until she was standing in front of him and placed her hands on his chest, near the collar of his shirt. There was one last thing he wanted to give her. Daryl had told her everything but he hadn't _shown _her. He unbuttoned the first button on his shirt before stopping, moving his hands to his sides, trying to keep them from shaking but Carol could see his nerves and smiled softly. At his nod, her fingers moved down, drawing his shirt apart with each button undone. When it was open she glanced up at him; he nodded again. Gently, she pushed his shirt from his shoulders and let it slide down his arms to the floor. Daryl was grateful the only light in the room was soft moonlight.

Carol withheld the gasp that came to her lips, afraid he would take it the wrong way. A variety of scars littered his skin, mostly long red lines criss-crossing each other but some were pink or white, thick or thin, long or short along with small circular ones that looked like burn marks. She had never seen all of his scars before and her heart broke at every painful reminder of what his father had done. Carol wanted to touch them but she wasn't going to, not until he gave her the okay; instead she decided to do something else. Daryl's eyes were closed and she could tell he was holding his breath. She hadn't said anything and he was getting extremely nervous, having stood before her in silence for several moments.

"Open your eyes. Breathe," she commanded quietly.

Daryl did as he was told and opened his eyes but found he was still unable to draw breath. Carol's top half was bared to him too. Of course his eyes were immediately drawn to her breasts and his face turned scarlet but he knew that wasn't what she was showing him. His eyes searched her skin and he saw them. She had scars of her own, permanent marks of her disastrous marriage to Ed. They were few and far between compared to his but he couldn't stop himself from flinching at the pain she'd been put through.

He reached out and traced them with his fingers and she did the same, exploring him. Daryl took in a sharp breath, tensing, but he didn't pull away and she didn't stop. Carol drew her face closer, kissing his chest before laying her ear over his heart and wrapping her arms around his waist. Daryl felt closer to this woman than he'd ever felt; bonded somehow. The darkness that had drawn them together was gone, replaced with warmth and caring, a feeling he had never known before. He wished he knew how to put what he was feeling into words but he didn't know what to say. Until Carol said it.

"I love you," she whispered, staring up at him.

Is _that_ what this is? Daryl almost thought the floor fell out from beneath him at the realization. He had heard the word 'love' before but never really knew what it meant; never understood how to apply it to another person. But looking down at the woman in his arms, he knew there was no other word for how he felt about her.

"I love you too," he said softly before leaning down and capturing her lips with his in a gentle kiss.

After a few moments they drew apart and Carol led him the short distance to their bed and crawled in; he followed suit, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his chest before they both fell asleep, content smiles on their face.

-TWD-

New Year's Eve had arrived; Daryl and Carol had opted to spend the night in instead of going downtown with Lafayette. Carol was disappointed about not going but the look on Daryl's face when she had asked about the party told her he simply couldn't handle it so she let it go and settled for staying in. Daryl knew she was disappointed and he felt guilty but he just didn't think he could deal with a bunch of people at the moment, especially drunk people.

Staying in for the night didn't stop Carol from dressing up in a gorgeous blue satin dress with a plunging neckline and dangerous black high heels that she knew did wonders for her legs. When she walked into the living room and Daryl's jaw dropped, she knew she'd hit the mark. Currently, she was seated on the couch waiting for him to bring champagne from the kitchen as the countdown to midnight neared. Daryl grinned as he approached from behind, shaking the bottle before popping the cork, eager for a little revenge after her Christmas whipped cream stunt.

She shrieked as the cold spray hit her and jumped from the couch before lunging at him, managing to grab the bottle and returning the favor until the fizz died down and they were both soaking wet with champagne. Carol took a swig before offering him the bottle and he downed the last sip of it, grinning.

"I'm covered in champagne!" Carol exclaimed but she was smiling. Daryl was definitely enjoying the view Carol's wet dress was affording him and his eyes darkened.

"Maybe I jus' wanted ta get ya outta that dress," he smirked, feeling brave. Carol raised an eyebrow and returned his smirk with one of her own. The sound of cheers emitting from the television drew their attention and they realized they missed the countdown. She grabbed the remote and flipped it off as Daryl made his way around the couch. "We's s'posed to kiss now, ain't we?" Carol nodded and he pressed his mouth to hers hungrily, hands grasping her face and tongue tracing her lips before she granted him entrance.

Carol moaned into his mouth as their tongues danced; she had missed this. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held them there. Given his past reactions to her exploring she decided to let him take the lead, let him tell her when to touch.

Daryl's hands dropped from her face, one moved to the back of her neck, tilting her head back and the other trailing to her waist, drawing her closer. When they pulled apart for air he looked at her, expression unsure. He wanted to explore her, learn everything about her, learn how to _please _her. Carol saw his hunger but also saw his nerves; he needed her to guide him. So she took his hand and placed it on a breast before returning her arm around his neck.

"Touch all you want; just be gentle with them," she smiled and he nodded, giving an experimental squeeze. Carol moaned as his mouth returned to hers; she walked backwards until her knees hit the couch. Before sitting down she reached behind her, grabbed the zipper of her dress and pulled it down before letting the material slide to the floor. Daryl pulled back and he couldn't stop himself from looking down; Carol was wearing the matching red bra and panties with black lace he'd found in his laundry over the Fourth of July weekend. The real thing put his imagination to shame and he could feel himself getting hard. Carol sat down and leaned back, looking at him with darkened eyes, panting softly. She was waiting for him to decide what he wanted to do; he was in complete control.

Daryl hesitated for a moment, his anxiety getting the better of him. But he realized he had nothing to be anxious about. Carol wasn't forcing him into anything; she was letting him have control, letting him get comfortable with everything. He realized what she was doing for him - she had stayed home tonight for him, she was trusting herself to him, allowing him to take the lead. She was giving him the power that had been taken away from him a long time ago. So he pushed away the anxiety and decided to return the favor.

He leaned down and kissed her, a knee between her legs and hands on either side, holding himself above her. Carol's arms returned to his neck, fingers going through his hair as Daryl returned his right hand to her breast, pushing her bra up and out of the way; he wanted to _feel _them. He cupped her in his palm, relishing the soft skin and his thumb brushed over her hardened nipple. She gasped softly and Daryl moved his mouth to her jaw, leaving a trail of kisses to her ear before slowly moving down her throat to the hollow between her collar bones. He hoped he was doing okay but given the sounds she was making, he figured it couldn't be too bad.

Daryl glanced up at her before darting his tongue out, catching a few drops of champagne on her skin. Carol gasped and arched her neck, eyes closing and fingernails grazing his scalp; encouraged by her response he moved lower. Trailing his tongue down between her breasts he paused, drawing back and looking up at her. Carol opened her eyes and looked at him; seeing the question in his eyes she smiled and nodded. Daryl lowered his head again, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucking gently, moving his hand to her other breast and massaging it with his fingers.

Carol's breath hitched and she arched her back into him; she was in heaven. He was so gentle and sweet, eager to please; she'd never been treated this way before. Heat pooled in her lower belly and her panties became moist. She wasn't new to sexual pleasures through self gratification but never before had a _man_ made her feel this way; excited and wanting. Ed was her first and their wedding night wasn't anything she wanted to remember, nor were any of the other times they had sex. He had always been rough and impatient; he only cared about getting himself off. Not once had he given her an orgasm. But once again Daryl was showing her just how different he was from her ex-husband. She could feel the hard length of him on her leg but he kept his lower half extraordinarily still, focused completely on her pleasure instead of his own need.

But Daryl was definitely enjoying himself too. Despite his raging hard on he could have spent the rest of the night fondling her boobs. He loved them, they were the most perfect set of tits he'd ever laid eyes on and he was more than happy to put his mouth on them too. They were soft and fit in his hand perfectly. He switched his mouth to her other breast, giving it the same attention, sucking and licking while massaging the other with his hand. Carol's breathing became heavier as the ache between her legs got stronger, she wanted more, _needed _more.

"Touch me," she breathed and Daryl's head shot up, staring at her with wide eyes. Wasn't that what he was doing?

"How?" He asked quietly, face turning beet red. Daryl wasn't a complete idiot about sex; he couldn't be having grown up with Merle. But knowing stuff and doing them were two different things. Thankfully, Carol didn't laugh at him, instead taking his hand in hers and slowly drawing it down, under the waistband of her panties, and to her warm center.

He groaned when his fingers first grazed her moist heat, head dropping to her shoulder and praying he didn't lose it right then and there. Carol flattened her palm over his hand, guiding his fingers where she wanted them. She gasped and her hips jerked when his middle finger found her clit.

"Right there, that's the spot," she moaned, moving her fingers over his in the motion she wanted, soft circular strokes; already the coil in her gut was tight and she knew it wouldn't take long. She removed her hand and let him take over.

He continued the pattern she'd shown him and smiled against her neck as her hips began to rock into his palm and he pressed down, giving her the pressure she was seeking. Carol groaned and her arms tightened around his neck as her hips moved faster, getting closer to the edge. He slid his hand down, letting his thumb take over for his middle finger as it moved down to her entrance, sliding against the wet opening but he didn't press in, just touching. Her breathing quickened and her whole body tensed. Daryl drew his head up; he wanted to see her face when she came. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her head thrown back in a silent scream as waves of pleasure crashed over her before letting out a guttural moan that he committed to memory. A rush of warmth coated his fingers, her legs tightening around his hand, but he continued to move his fingers until she calmed and her hips quit twitching.

Carol's face was flushed and she was out of breath and panting but she managed to give Daryl a very pleased smile and he was relieved to have done well. She pulled his face closer and kissed him before pulling back and looking up at him with questioning eyes.

"Can I return the favor?" She could still feel his erection pressed against her leg and knew it had to be almost painful at this point. Daryl slowly nodded but she could tell he was nervous and smiled gently. Carol knew he wasn't quite ready for the whole event, tonight was about exploring and learning, but she didn't want to leave him empty handed after what he'd done for her. And she wanted her chance to explore him too.

Gently, she pushed him back until he was sitting on the couch and she stood before him, discarding her disheveled bra and waiting for him to give permission. Daryl admired the view of Carol standing before him in nothing but her panties for several moments until he realized she was waiting on him. He was still in control here. He reached for her hands and pulled her towards him until she was straddling his legs and their mouths were connected again. Carol placed her hands at the collar of his shirt but held them there until he nodded.

Slowly, she pulled each button apart until his shirt was open and then her fingers came to a stop at the button of his pants and she pulled back, looking at him. His eyes were dark with lust and his mouth was open slightly; he nodded again and Carol freed him from the confines of his pants. Daryl gasped when air hit his overheated flesh and Carol captured his mouth again in a hungry kiss before wrapping her hand around his member. His hips jerked at the contact and she smiled against his lips, moving to nibble on his ear lobe. Her hand slid down the shaft in a loose grip before tightening it and sliding back up as the head started leaking precum. Daryl's hand stopped her movement and she looked at him.

"Carol, I'm not-I'm not gonna-" he panted, looking frantic. Touching Carol had left him hard as a rock and frankly he was surprised he hadn't lost it already. He'd never been touched like this before so her mouth on his neck, hand on his chest, and other hand jerking him off was sensory overload and he was approaching the edge quickly.

"Shhhh, it's alright. Just relax and enjoy it," she smiled at him before returning her mouth to his neck and resuming her movements.

Daryl wasn't kidding with his warning though. All it took was a few more strokes and he was wrapping his hand around hers for a tighter grip as his cock pulsed and spilled warm sticky wetness over their fingers. He was thrusting into her hand and groaning loudly as he came, forehead resting on her shoulder as the tension finally drained out of his body and he stilled. When he finally regained his breath he looked up at her, sheepish smile on his face and she smiled warmly at him, soothing the embarrassment he felt about how long he lasted.

"Did you enjoy it?" She asked, wanting to be sure. He nodded and pulled her close, their chests flush and her head on his shoulder. This had been an amazing first experience for him.

"Did ya like it too?" Carol leaned back to look at him and pressed a sweet kiss to his nose.

"Very much," she smiled before pulling away and heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Daryl followed soon after, getting himself cleaned up and into a clean pair of boxers. When he got to their room she was already in bed but when he pulled back the covers he saw she was only in a fresh pair of panties and nothing else. He crawled in behind her and Carol snuggled into his side, arm draped over his chest. Daryl smiled and a small laugh escaped him when a thought occurred to him. The rumble of his chest had her looking up at him, curious.

"What?"

"Sorry, I's jus' thinkin' . . . Great way ta start the new year, don't ya think?" He was grinning and Carol giggled, nodding her head.

"Happy New Year, Daryl," she laughed, kissed his chest and laid her head back down.

"Happy New Year, Carol," he kissed the top of her bed before drifting off to sleep himself.

-TWD-

**A/N**: Finally I get to use that M rating for some fun times! XD Maybe Daryl was a little too good but I figure he's got a good teacher, he's eager to please, and he deserves to have something go right for him too.

Hope you enjoyed. Review?


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who reads this and for all the love this fic's gotten. I wish I could give you all a Norman Reedus. :)

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Daryl awoke before Carol did. Her back was nestled against his chest and he was enjoying this quiet moment of watching her sleep, head propped up on his hand. How had he gotten so lucky? All the time, Carol talked about what he did for her but in his mind that just couldn't compare to what she'd done for him. She'd shown him kindness and patience. She'd given him her trust. She'd given him her _love_. He smiled at the memory of the previous night. He didn't just learn how to please her; he'd learned that even with intimacy, he had nothing to fear. Daryl knew Carol had let him take the lead to make him as comfortable as possible. To let him know that she wasn't going to push him into anything he wasn't ready for. But looking down at her peaceful face, thinking about last night and everything she'd done for him; Daryl thought himself ready to take that next step.

Carol was stirring from sleep as he began tracing the sliver of light that fell across her from the window, fingertips brushing her skin. She smiled but her eyes were still closed. Nerves settled over him at the thought of what he was about to do. What if he wasn't any good? What if she wasn't satisfied? What if he hurt her? Doubts swirled in his mind and Daryl found himself pulling away until Carol opened her eyes and looked back at him. Even sleepy, she picked up on his anxiety and gave him a sweet smile, turning onto her back and bringing a hand to his cheek.

"I love you," she whispered, kissing him softly.

And that was it. The storm of doubt dissipated and Daryl returned the kiss with a searing one of his own, a hand coming up to cup her cheek before moving to the back of her head. Carol moaned as heat flushed her body and she could feel herself getting wet already. Her body's quick reaction was still a surprise to her. It was still so new getting turned on by someone else and it was an experience she was enjoying immensely. She brought her own hands up, running her fingers through his hair and opened her mouth to his probing tongue. Carol knew where this was going so when they parted for air she placed her hands on his chest, holding him back, and looked at him questioningly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Carol whispered; she had to be sure. _Are you ready for this,_ is what she was really asking, Daryl knew. He stared at her for a moment, giving the question honest thought. His body definitely wanted to and he relished the sensations coursing through him. But was he ready to open himself up completely, ready to trust _her_ completely? The answer was simple enough. His hands cupped her face and he brought his lips to hers; Carol had her answer.

When he moved his hand down to fondle a breast she gasped and her back arched; he smiled against her lips and continued moving his hand down over the flat planes of her belly and to the waistband of her panties. She nodded when he looked to her for permission and gasped again when his hand cupped her, fingers stroking her through the thin fabric. Daryl was surprised she had already soaked through her panties; they'd barely begun. Carol moaned miserably at his teasing touches and reached down to remove the fabric barrier, lifting her hips and sliding the panties down her legs. She replaced his hand at her warm center and he moved his fingers in the pattern she'd shown him last night. Carol couldn't stop her hips from bucking into his hand as she neared the edge.

But before she got too close she pulled his hand away and stared up at him when he pulled back to look at her in confusion. Her cheeks were flushed and she was panting, looking at him with dark eyes.

"I'm ready for you," her voice was husky and Daryl almost came at the very sound of it. Carol knew that he wouldn't last long being a virgin and new to the extraordinary sensations he was about to experience. She also knew what it would do to him if he finished without her. So she was going to let him finish what he started a different way.

She spread her legs for him and Daryl settled between them before pushing his boxers down. He looked up at her, nervous and unsure, waiting for her to make the first move. Carol reached down and gently grasped his hard shaft, lining him up with her entrance before leaning back and giving him a soft smile of encouragement; her hands on his waist, waiting.

Slowly, he inched his hips forward, sliding into Carol's tight wet heat; keeping his eyes locked on hers. Carol loved watching his face, memorizing it, as he pushed in. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open, letting out a heavy breath; it was almost too much and he was afraid of losing it right then and there. But somehow, he managed to get in all the way without ending too soon. He held still for a few moments trying to calm down but also relishing the sensation of being inside a woman for the first time.

Carol's breath left her as he filled her. He was bracing himself above her, and they both delighted in being completely connected. But it had been awhile and he was bigger than Ed was so she was grateful he didn't start moving immediately, giving her time to adjust. When she was ready, Carol pulled his face to hers for a kiss and she wrapped her legs around his hips, bringing him in even closer. Daryl took that as his cue to start moving. Groaning, he tried to find a rhythm but his movements were stiff and robotic, unsure. Carol tightened her legs, stopping him.

"_Relax_," she breathed, "Let me guide you." He nodded and she kissed him again before she started moving her hips and his head dropped to her shoulder.

It was awkward and slow at first but with Carol's added movements guiding him, he started to get the hang of it and they fell into a comfortable rhythm. She could feel herself getting close again, the tension building quickly as their pace picked up. He filled her completely and Carol loved the sensation of it. Their hips rocked together, gaining momentum and putting pressure on her pelvis in _just_ the right way. Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders, fingernails digging in as she moaned. This was unbelievable. She didn't know sex could feel this _good_.

"Oh God, Daryl-"

Carol gasped as an orgasm tore through her; her legs clenched his hips holding him still as her walls tightened around him. Daryl grunted, his face buried between her neck and shoulder, back arching; he didn't know it could get any _tighter _but she was like a vice gripping him. A rush of warmth engulfed him and he couldn't hold on any longer. His cock pulsed as he followed Carol over the edge, gasping against her neck and spilling himself inside her.

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her, trying to regain his breath as the last waves of pleasure coursed through him. Carol held him as they both came down from their high; his weight was a little much on her chest but she enjoyed having him this close, they were still connected. But all too soon he was sliding out of her and moving to lie at her side, head resting on her belly. She smiled down at him, brushing bangs away from his sweaty forehead.

"How was it?" she asked. Carol could tell he was getting sleepy as his eyes fluttered open and shut but he had the cutest smile on his face.

"I . . . we . . . we should do that again," he mumbled, grinning lopsidedly. Carol laughed softly, stroking his hair.

"Whenever you're ready," she said as his eyes closed; she could feel her own lids getting heavy and they drifted off, sleeping the morning away.

-TWD-

Carol was in an extraordinarily good mood. She couldn't keep the smile off her face, not even while working a long shift at the diner a day after New Years. Full of energy and bouncing with every step, her good mood was infectious, putting smiles on customer's faces and earning her bigger tips. Closing time was nearing and Carol was busy sweeping the floor of the dining room, humming a happy tune to herself. When she was finished, she turned to take the broom back to the supply closet in the kitchen and nearly jumped out of her skin at the unexpected sight of Lafayette watching her. His eyes were narrowed, one arm leaning on the counter and the other hand on his hip; he was looking her up and down skeptically with a smirk. He'd been watching her all day trying to put his finger on what had changed about her.

"_What_?"

"Somethin' different about you, Carol," he drawled.

"Lafayette, I don't know what you're talking about," she pushed past him into the kitchen, a slight blush on her cheeks and the light bulb went off in his head.

"Hookah, you got _laid_," the sound of the broom and dust pan clattering to the floor confirmed his guess and Lafayette grinned, following Carol into the kitchen. "And with the way you's been about to float away all day, I'd say he gave it to ya _good_." Carol dropped the broom again, face turning scarlet.

"Lafayette! I am _not_ talking about this with you!"

"Honey, your mouth don't need to do any talkin.' Your face and butter fingers are doin' plenty a' that," he laughed. Carol groaned, hand coming to her burning face. Lafayette was enjoying this way too much. "'Bout time you two's did the nasty."

"There was nothing _nasty _about it," Carol knew what Lafayette meant but nasty simply wasn't a term she'd ever apply to sex with Daryl. Dirty, maybe; she smirked thinking about some of the fun things they could eventually do. But nasty? No. Nasty was sex with Ed. She shook those thoughts from her head and finally managed to get the cleaning tools back in the closet where they belonged.

"Alright, well, all the same, it's about fuckin' time," his smile was genuine and Carol smiled shyly in return. Lafayette absolutely loved teasing Carol but, truthfully, he was extremely happy for her. "Ya best watch out, girl. You let the Dixon out of his cage, ain't no puttin' it back," Lafayette grinned, eyes gleaming. He couldn't resist that last little tease, watching Carol's face turn red again.

But she just shook her head and ignored him; they finished cleaning up the kitchen and shut everything down. Carol hung up her apron, ready to go home and relax for the evening, bidding Lafayette goodnight. As she was walking to the truck he called out to her.

"Have fun, hookah," he winked at her, pulling his car door open.

"Oh, I intend to," she whispered, grinning to herself. Lafayette had teasingly warned her about Daryl but he hadn't realized that maybe something in Carol had been unleashed too.

-TWD-

When Carol arrived home she heard the shower running and figured Daryl had a long first day back to work too. A wicked idea popped into her head and she kicked off her shoes and dropped the keys on the entry table before making her way to bathroom, sneaking in quietly. She stripped down to nothing before peeking her head behind the shower curtain.

"Need a hand?" She grinned, enjoying the view of his muscled back and nice ass.

Daryl nearly jumped out of his skin and spun around, heart pounding in his chest. He relaxed a bit when he realized it was Carol but he still looked extremely uncomfortable as she climbed into the shower with him. She smiled, assuming he was just recovering from the scare she'd given him until she approached and he backed away, unable to make eye contact.

"Did I do something wrong?" Carol asked, fear settling in her stomach. Daryl shook his head.

"No . . . I jus' . . ." he didn't know how to explain it. She'd already seen them and he felt stupid for feeling this way but Carol seeing his scars in a dark, dimly lit room wasn't the same as the unforgiving fluorescent light of the bathroom. He couldn't help being afraid of her reaction; afraid that she'd be just as disgusted with them as he was. Carol picked up on his body language, the way he was fidgeting and trying to cover himself with his arms. He was embarrassed.

"Is it your scars?" She asked softly and he nodded, looking miserable. Daryl had come an extremely long way but Carol realized this would be a lifelong journey for him. Some hurt was just too deep; all she could do when it flared up was hold his hand through it. And that's what she intended to do. Stepping up to him, she gently pulled his chin towards her face and waited until his eyes met hers. "I love you. _Every. __Single. Inch. _Of you," her eyes were blazing and she almost looked angry. And she was. Not at him but at the _thing _that made him this way. "You're afraid I don't like what I see?" He nodded again. "Then let me show you what looking at you does to me," Carol knew this was a bold move but she didn't see any other way. She grabbed his hand and brought it between her legs; his eyes widened and a small gasp left him. She was dripping wet and it wasn't water he was feeling; his cock twitched as desire filled him. "That's all you, Daryl. And you know what?"

"What?" His voice was husky, pupils dilated, and she could feel his forming erection.

"You're the first man to make me feel this way. No other man has _ever _turned me on the way you do. And you should be damn proud to know you're the first man to give me an orgasm," his jaw dropped at her words, not at all used to hearing her talk that way but he'd be damned if it didn't turn him on even more.

Daryl's lips crashed against hers in a hungry kiss and Carol matched his intensity. Their tongues danced as he pressed her back against the wall, hips pushing into hers seeking friction. Carol was aching for him and his cock was leaking precum on her belly; she hiked her leg over his hip and his right hand held her thigh in place, continuing to thrust against her. It felt good but Carol needed more.

"Inside me. Now," she groaned, placing his left hand on her ass as he slid the other up her thigh to grip the other half. He pulled her up and Carol wrapped her legs around his waist as he slowly slid her down onto his engorged member. Slowly, he began to thrust, and Carol delighted in the angle they came together at. Neither of them was going to last long and a few short thrusts later, Carol was gasping his name as Daryl lost himself inside her before sliding to the floor on jellied legs.

"You're amazing, Daryl Dixon. And don't you forget it," Carol said as they regained their breath. He nodded, smiling sheepishly.

The water was still warm but it was cooling off quickly so they rinsed off and got dry before putting on some pajamas and heading to bed. Carol had her ear over his heart and he was staring at the ceiling, thoughts swirling. He'd probably never look at himself and like what he saw but Carol did and that was good enough for him. But another thought struck him and he found himself getting curious.

"Carol?"

"Hm?" She asked, almost asleep.

"Ya said . . . ya said I's the first guy ta get you off . . ."

"Mm hm," she mumbled.

"How many . . ." Daryl left the question hanging and Carol opened her eyes looking at him. She could tell he was just genuinely curious and smiled, a little embarrassed.

"Ed was my first. He had twelve years to get it right and he never did . . ." her smile widened and her eyes sparkled, even in the dark, "But you got it right on the first try. And the second. And the third," she laughed and he grinned. They went quiet for a little while and Carol was about to drift off again until Daryl's rumbling chest shook her back to awareness. "What's so funny?"

"Not funny, really. Jus' . . . ya keep provin' 'im wrong. 'Bout everything," Daryl was staring at the ceiling and had a big smile on his face; Carol loved seeing it there. "Never thought I'd have somethin' like this with anybody . . ." He looked down at her, still smiling, "But here ya are." Carol beamed at him; it meant the world to hear him say that.

"And here I'll stay," she whispered, kissing him softly before laying her head back down on his chest.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: Smutty chapter . . . Yeah, I'm not even sorry. XD Damn, I've waited a long time to get to his first time. Hope I did it alright!

Alright guys, this was kind of the final turning point for this fic and it's going to start drawing to a close. I'm going to get these characters where I want them to be and, yes, that includes Merle. As much as I'd love to keep writing this forever and ever I'm afraid that's simply not possible. All stories must come to an end. I don't know just how many chapters are left but I just wanted to let you know so it wasn't a complete shock when the final chapter came.

Review?


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **Sorry this took a little longer than usual. Guess I don't want this fic to end any more than the rest of you do and that's making these last chapters difficult to write. Thanks for all the faves, follows, and reviews. You guys rock!

And **Rodgerse** thank you so much for that review. That is the greatest compliment I've gotten for this story and you should know that when writing this fic I think back to your reviews quite often to keep myself grounded in reality. Thank you.

Special shout out to **lovePEOPLEandCOWBOY **who's been translating this fic for the French section of the site. Thank you for helping me bring this story to more readers. :)

Anywho, please enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the plot.

**Dog Days of Dixon**

Early spring was upon them; the days were getting a little longer and warming up again, trees and flowers were budding, birds were nesting. It was a beautiful Saturday morning but Daryl didn't think it was as beautiful as it could have been. Carol was out of town with Lafayette. He'd enlisted her help with cooking for a large wedding reception down in Savannah and they wouldn't be back until Sunday.

Lafayette's catering on the side was becoming a full-time job as business picked up. But the busier he got the more help he needed and he'd turned to Carol for assistance with the bigger jobs that he couldn't do by himself. Carol was happy to help out and earn extra money on the side; she loved cooking and social events and getting to travel was a nice perk too.

Unfortunately, Daryl was unable to join them for the little weekend excursion to Savannah because he had to work Friday. He didn't much enjoy going to bed or waking up alone but Carol had called him the night before and sent him a good morning text as well. It struck him as odd that he was now more used to sharing space with someone than being alone. They still had things they did without the other – like Carol going out with her friends and Daryl's weekend hunting trips; but, sometimes, how much his life had changed since Carol came around would hit him like a ton of bricks and it made him smile. He was proud to have made it this far, proud to have found happiness despite his father.

He had Saturday off and Daryl figured the day was as good as any to go visit his brother at the prison. He set off around mid-morning and made it around noon, going through the usual sign-in and security procedure before making his way to the visitor's area. Merle showed up soon after and sat down at their usual table.

"Ya look tired baby brother, ain't workin' too hard are ya?"

"Nah, couple a' guys quit at the shop, been pickin' up their slack. Money's good though, might have ta quit the diner and work full time. See what the boss man says."

"Speakin' of, I been thinkin.'"

"Dangerous pastime," Daryl smirked.

"Shut up," Merle snapped, flipping him the bird. "I been tryin' ta figure out what I'm gonna do when I get outta here . . . Any chance ya could get me a job workin' there?"

"I was thinkin' about that too. I could put in a good word for ya. Jim's a laid back guy and I done a good job for 'im, wouldn' hurt to ask," Daryl offered. He wasn't going to let Merle return to old habits; he'd help him any way he could. "Besides, I ain't never seen someone put together a bike like you can," and that was the truth. Merle had a way with mechanics, understood them almost intimately despite being self-taught, he'd just never put his talent to much use.

"Beats workin' at McDonalds," Merle nodded, relieved. It hurt his pride a bit to have his little brother's help but he was determined to stay on the path he'd started on, even if that meant swallowing his pride. Besides, working on motorcycles was something he enjoyed so making money doing it could only make it better.

"Ya gonna have to get certified in order ta work there."

"That's bullshit, I know my way aroun' a motorcycle!" Merle growled, irritated.

"I know. I had ta do it too; an' ya know how much I hate takin' tests . . ."

"Yeah," Merle sighed. "S'pose that gives me somethin' ta do for the next year . . ." he knew bikes in and out but Merle figured it wouldn't hurt to read up on what it took to become a certified mechanic. Daryl was surprised his brother relented so easily but he was proud of him too. It looked like he was taking this seriously.

"Jus' get through the next year stayin' outta trouble and when ya get out Carol an' I will be there ta help ya."

"Where is Carol, anyway?" Merle noticed she wasn't around today and wondered what she was up to.

"Outta town, helpin' a friend," Daryl grumbled.

"That why ya lookin' like someone pissed in yer cornflakes?" Merle grinned.

"Shut up, Merle," he grumbled again and Merle snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Look at ya, turnin' into a whiny little bitch cuz ya woman's gone a few days. I been stuck here for goin' on two years now and ya don' see me whinin' 'bout the lack a' pussy. Don' even know why yer so pissy anyway – I bet ya ain't even stuck it to her yet," Merle grinned again, waiting for Daryl to take the bait but he was surprised to see the shy grin on his baby brother's face.

The last few times Daryl had visited, Merle sensed a difference in him. He looked like the weight on his shoulders had been lifted; he looked _happy_, happier than he'd ever seen him. And there was something more to that happiness but Merle couldn't put his finger on it until the grin on his brother's face gave it away.

"Well lookit that. Baby brother ain't a virgin no more. Sweet little Carol popped your cherry did she?" Daryl wasn't going to honor that with an answer but the red in his face confirmed it and Merle laughed. "Bout fuckin' time! Prob'ly the only Dixon to hold out 'til after thirty. Did ya do the Dixons proud little brother?"

Daryl said nothing but he couldn't keep the proud smirk off his face and nodded once. Merle clapped him on the shoulder and he was beaming with the pride only an older brother could have. He almost couldn't believe the man sitting before him; he was nothing like the little brother he'd left standing in the courthouse almost two years ago. Merle had known he wouldn't be the one to heal his brother, he didn't even know if Daryl was capable of healing at all. But how far he'd come was a huge surprise to Merle and he would be forever grateful to Carol for what she'd done for his baby brother.

"Tha's how ya do it, bro. Dixon secret: keep 'em satisfied, keep 'em comin' back fer more," Merle grinned, waggling his eyebrows. Daryl snorted and rolled his eyes. "Now tell me, she the hellcat I think she is?"

"Fuck off, Merle I ain't talkin' to you about that shit," Daryl snarled. That side of Carol was for him to know and him alone.

"Whatever, man," Merle shrugged, standing as their visiting time came to an end. "Jus' curious, is all." Daryl snorted, standing up as well. "'Til next time little brother," Merle smiled, he was truly happy his brother had found something good in this world. Daryl nodded and watched his brother walk away before turning and heading back to the parking lot.

-TWD-

Carol barely made it inside the front door before Daryl pounced with a growl. He'd heard her coming and was waiting for her; just as soon as she got inside his mouth was on hers in a hungry kiss. The suitcase in her hands slipped from her fingers and hit the floor with a thud as he pushed her back against the door, closing it. He pulled back to look at her but the rest of his body was still pressed firmly against her. He was looking at her with dark eyes and she could feel his excitement.

"I missed you too," she smirked, pulling his face back to her own.

His tongue slid against hers, tasting her mouth as his hands found their way to the hem of her shirt, fingers sliding up and underneath. His touch left goosebumps in its wake and soon he had her shirt up and over her head. Daryl glanced down at her bra before looking back up at her with a devilish grin and Carol knew what he was about to do. He had yet to master the art of getting the tricky article of clothing off the proper way and today he was far too impatient to even try. His fingers grasped the cups and with one firm tug the flimsy material gave way and Carol gasped as her bra was torn away from her.

She would mourn the loss of that piece of lingerie later; right now, she was too turned on to care. Daryl had instigated sex more than once before but he'd never been quite so . . . _wild _about it. Carol had never felt so desired in her life and knowing that he wanted her so badly that he couldn't even wait until she was inside made her weak in the knees and had her panties moistening.

Carol moaned as his lips found her mouth again before trailing sweet kisses along her jaw and to the sensitive spot below her ear. He nipped and licked at the flesh as his hands cupped her breasts, fingers stroking her hardened nipples. Daryl was trying as hard as he could to be patient and get her warmed up but his self-control was depleting quickly.

"I need ya, woman," he growled in her ear, voice husky. He couldn't stop himself from thrusting against her. Carol pushed him back and leveled him with a hungry stare of her own before pushing his shirt up and over his head and then working on getting his belt and jeans open.

"So take me," she whispered huskily, pushing her own pants down, and watching as his eyes went almost completely black.

Gently as he could manage at the moment, he pulled Carol from the door and stood behind her before taking them down to their knees. Carol knew what he wanted and fell forward onto her hands as Daryl pushed his pants down just enough to free his erection. He used his knee to spread her legs apart before grasping her hip with one hand and lining himself up with the other. It never ceased to amaze him that she was always ready for him and with one quick thrust he was inside her.

Daryl fell forward, an arm around her waist, the other hand at her hip, and his chest flush with her back as he began to move. Carol absolutely _loved_ the way his chest felt against her back, skin slick with sweat and hard muscles rolling underneath. Their pace was fast and Daryl couldn't stop himself from grunting with each thrust; he was so close.

"_Harder_," Carol moaned and Daryl obliged to his own detriment. All it took was one hard thrust and he couldn't hold it off any longer; his body tensed. His arm tightened around her waist as his back arched and he came with a loud cry. Carol gasped when she felt his member throb as his warmth spilled into her; that was sooner than expected.

"Fuck!" He cursed, pulling away from her and Carol mourned the loss. Daryl couldn't really move yet, his legs too weak from the intense orgasm so he was stuck sitting behind her and Carol turned to look at him. His face was red, shoulders slumped in defeat; she actually thought he looked kind of adorable but she wasn't going to tell him that. Clearly he was disappointed with his performance and he glanced at her, embarrassed. "'M sorry . . ."

"Hey, it's alright, it happens," she smiled and moved closer to him. "Besides," her sweet smile turned into a devilish grin, "who said we were finished?" Carol straddled his lap and brought his hand to her core to finish what he started. She kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he sank two fingers inside her, thumb stroking her clit.

Daryl loved the sounds she was making as she neared the edge; it was sending jolts of pleasure straight to his groin. Soon enough, he had her moving on his hand and gasping against his neck. Her arms tightened around him as her body tensed and she thrust against him. He felt a rush of heat and moisture on his hand as she came, walls tightening around his fingers and hips twitching. He slowed his movements as she came down from her high and Carol slumped against him.

"I don't care if you finish before me," she panted, still out of breath. "Just don't leave me unfinished."

"Ya got it," he nodded, his hands stroking her lower back. She was a wet noodle in his lap and he enjoyed having her so close, head resting on his shoulder, her chest still heaving against his. They remained that way for a few minutes until a buzzing sound had them springing apart as if they'd been caught like a couple of teenagers.

Realizing it was just Carol's phone they both laughed and Carol grabbed it from her bag before redressing as Daryl got his pants back on. She flipped open her phone and a second later Carol's breath left her in a gasp. Maggie had sent her a picture of her left hand with a beautiful silver band, topped with a small diamond, wrapped around her ring finger.

"What?" Daryl asked, getting curious. Carol looked up at him, happy grin splitting her face as she showed him the picture.

"Glenn proposed to Maggie! They're getting married!"

"Oh . . ." Daryl didn't really know what to say; marriage proposals, engagements, and stuff like that were completely foreign to him. But Carol was oblivious to his ignorance, too happy and excited for the young couple to notice the look on his face.

"Congratulations are in order, we should take them out to dinner," Carol looked at him hopefully and he nodded, giving her a small smile. Her attention returned to her phone as she dialed Maggie to see about going to dinner. Daryl knew she'd be on the phone awhile so he slipped his shirt back on and went outside to work on his bike for the rest of the afternoon, thoughts swirling in his head.

Later that evening the two couples were sitting at a table in a quiet restaurant, sipping drinks and waiting for their food. Glenn had an arm around Maggie and they were practically glowing with happiness. Carol had Maggie's left hand in her own, inspecting the ring. Daryl was feeling a little out of his depths; he just sat quietly and listened.

"Maggie, it's beautiful! Well done, Glenn," Carol smiled at him.

"Thanks," Glenn replied, smiling shyly.

"You're going to have an engagement party, right?"

"Yeah, we were thinkin' later this spring when it really warms up and havin' it out at Daddy's farm and then doin' a fall wedding."

"Oooh, I bet it's wonderful! All those beautiful fall colors . . ." Carol said, her imagination going wild.

"Yeah, I was gonna ask Lafayette to do the catering too. Think you could ask him for me?" Maggie asked.

"Of course! Next time I see him, I'll ask," Carol replied as their food arrived. The conversation went quiet for a little while until Maggie decided the quiet hunter had been a little too silent and tried to drag him into conversation.

"So Daryl, when ya gonna put a ring on my girl's finger here?" She asked, smirking at him.

"Um . . . I, uh . . ." Daryl's face had gone pale and he suddenly wasn't hungry anymore.

"Maggie!" Glenn admonished her, "Don't put the guy on the spot like that!"

"Daryl, it's alright, she was just teasing you," Carol said softly, reassuring him with a smile and gentle hand on his knee. Daryl nodded and smiled sheepishly, face tinged pink.

Maggie may have been teasing but her question set off a million other questions in his head and he remained silent for the rest of dinner that evening as the other three continued their wedding planning.

When they returned home, Carol followed him inside the front door and closed it before her hand brushed his arm.

"Is everything alright?" she asked gently. Daryl stopped and turned to look at her, his face mostly unreadable but Carol thought she saw a flash of fear in his eyes before it was gone.

"Yeah, I . . . 'm fine. Jus' thinkin' is all," he smiled softly and kissed her cheek before making his way to the shower.

Carol debated pressing him for more but eventually decided not to. She had an idea of what was upsetting him and figured he'd come to her when he was ready. Sometimes he just needed to get the thoughts clear in his own head before talking to her about it. So she'd be patient and leave him be.

-TWD-

Early May had arrived and Daryl found himself on Hershel Greene's farm, along with a bunch of other people he didn't know, celebrating Maggie and Glenn's engagement. Carol had arrived earlier with Lafayette to set up and Daryl drove his motorcycle to the event. She greeted him with a quick hug and a kiss before returning to the work at hand.

A large white tent had been pitched next to the house for some shade with a line of tables running along one side. The tables were set up with paper plates, plastic cups, snacks, drinks, and various side dishes guests had brought. Hanging across the front porch was a large banner that read "Congratulations, Maggie and Glenn!" Paper lanterns were strung from the tent to the house for light when night fell and tiki torches surrounded the area to keep the bugs away.

Carol was busy with Lafayette at the grill next to the tent. She was having a lovely time cooking and socializing with people as they came by to see when the main courses would be ready. Daryl just kept to himself, watching other people and sipping on a beer until a familiar face appeared.

"Hey man, how's it goin'?" T-Dog asked, greeting him with a kind smile. Daryl nodded and gave him a half smile. "Here with Carol?" Daryl nodded again, his eyes flickering towards her, remaining silent. "Social events not really your thing are they?"

"No shit," Daryl remarked dryly, smirking and T-Dog grinned, happy to have successfully gotten a couple words out of him.

"Doin' it for the lady, then. Good man," T-Dog said and Daryl glanced at him, surprised. It was still strange to hear people say nice things about him.

"I try."

As dusk fell T-Dog drifted away to converse with other people and Daryl was fine with that. All the noise and people were starting to get to him; he needed some space and found himself walking towards the barn to be alone. And that's where Carol found him an hour later. She had finished cooking with Lafayette and noticed Daryl had disappeared from the corner he'd been watching her from. She saw T-Dog talking to him earlier and asked him if he knew where he went and he pointed her in the direction of the barn. Daryl was petting the nose of a horse and whispering to it but Carol couldn't hear what he was saying.

"Hey there," she smiled, approaching, and Daryl looked at her. He gave her a small smile.

"Think I made a new friend – her name's Nellie," he gestured towards the horse who was currently mouthing his shirt, looking for treats. Carol smiled at the adorable scene but she'd come out here for a reason.

"Mind telling me why you're hiding out in the barn?" She asked gently. Daryl had the same look on his face from a couple months ago and Carol had noticed he'd been a little distant since then as well; quieter. Daryl sighed and he looked back at the horse; it took him a few minutes to speak.

"Do ya want all that stuff too?" He asked quietly.

"What stuff?"

"A ring, an' parties, an' a weddin.' Do ya want that too?" His eyes met hers again and he looked so unsure. Carol smiled softly and got closer, bringing her own hand up to pet Nellie's cheek.

"First, why don't you tell me why you look afraid of my answer?" Daryl stayed silent for another couple minutes. Daryl really didn't know what he was so afraid of. He didn't have any problem thinking he'd spend the rest of his life with Carol so why the idea of her wanting to get married scared him, he didn't know.

"I dunno, it's jus' . . . overwhelmin' I guess. All the people and planning . . . An' . . ." He went silent again.

"And?" Carol nudged.

"An' the only two marriages I ever seen din' end too well," he admitted, thinking about his own mother and Carol's marriage to Ed. Carol nodded her understanding and took his hand in her own.

"Marriage isn't inherently bad, Daryl. It's what two people make of it. Ed turned ours into a loveless, abusive relationship . . . and I let him," she looked down at their hands. "But my parents were happily married until the day my mother died – my dad never even looked at another woman after she passed. And Glenn and Maggie? They might be a little young but I don't see things ending badly for them, do you?" she looked back up at him.

Daryl thought about the young couple, how they interacted with each other. He'd seen them squabble over minor things but they weren't hateful towards each other when they disagreed. They made each other happy and were obviously willing to work through whatever issues came up between them. He shook his head no.

"Daryl, we don't have to have a wedding or anything like that. I've done it once before although I wouldn't mind doing it again," he could see the hope in her eyes even though she was trying to hide it. "But either way, you know I'm not going anywhere," she smiled at him and saw the relief on his face as he smiled and nodded in return.

"I love ya, woman," Daryl said softly. Knowing that she wanted a wedding but was willing to give that up for him meant a lot. It told him that she only wanted him to be happy. And maybe that was the key to this whole relationship thing – wanting your partner to be happy; putting their needs and wants ahead of your own. Of course, that only worked if both partners were willing to do that. Well, Daryl knew he was willing to do whatever it took to make her happy too.

"I love you too," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him softly. Carol hadn't meant for things to get heated but before she knew it, he had her sitting on a bench, standing between her legs with his fingers trailing up her thigh and under her dress. She moaned into his mouth as heat pooled in her belly but she pushed him away; he groaned and tried kissing her again. "Daryl, stop," she panted and he did, looking down at her. "We can't do this here."

"Why not?" It was plenty private enough for them. Carol almost laughed at the disappointed look on his face.

"Because it would be very inappropriate; this is somebody else's home and we're supposed to be celebrating Maggie and Glenn, not getting dirty in the barn," she smirked. Daryl sighed and pressed his forehead to hers willing himself to calm down.

"_Jus' _like fuckin' rabbits," Lafayette's voice had Daryl springing away from her and Carol smoothing down her dress, both of their faces on fire. "What I tell you Carol?" He teased and she groaned, knowing he'd never let her live this one down.

"What ya want, Lafayette?" Daryl growled.

"Jus' lettin' ya know you two should get your butts up there before all the good food we worked on is gone. But it looks ta me like you's would rather eat each other," he grinned before turning away.

"Fuck you, Lafayette," Daryl growled again, face still crimson.

"Don' tempt me, Dixon," Lafayette quipped before sashaying away. Carol giggled and put a calming hand on Daryl's arm. She was definitely grateful she stopped when she did. Hopping off the bench, she stood in front of him, eyes sparkling.

"Don't worry, we can finish this later," she promised with a smile. "Now let's get up there and eat before all the good stuff's gone," Carol offered her hand and he took it, walking with her back to the party.

-TWD-

Carol was about as happy as she could get as the evening came to an end. She had enjoyed a wonderful day of cooking and socializing; her belly was full from a delicious meal and she'd even managed to coax Daryl onto the makeshift dance floor for a single slow dance. Daryl was mostly happy he hadn't stepped on her toes. But then she spotted the motorcycle and realized it was her ride home. Which would have been fine if she wasn't wearing a knee-length, shoulder-baring dress; she was gonna freeze on that thing, early summer or not.

"You drove the motorcycle?" Carol asked and Daryl saw the look on her face; he immediately wanted to smack himself for his stupidity.

"'M sorry . . . wasn' thinkin'" he muttered sheepishly.

"You's can ride with me, Carol," Lafayette called, grinning.

"_No_," she glared at him. Carol loved Lafayette but no way in hell was she spending two hours next to him and enduring his teasing.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged and walked away.

Carol resigned herself to the motorcycle and walked towards it. Thankfully Daryl found a jacket in one of the bags and handed it to her, along with her helmet. She got on behind him and Daryl kick started the bike and took off towards home. He stayed on the back roads, going slower, so the wind wasn't so bad on her legs. It actually wasn't as cold as she thought it would be, especially with the jacket.

Carol relaxed against him and let her mind drift; it took her back to the interrupted moment in the barn. A devilish grin split her face as an idea struck her and she let one of her hands fall from his waist to his thigh, stroking it. She felt his back tense and he shook his head no. Carol stopped but couldn't resist cupping his crotch and squeezing gently. Daryl lurched forward but managed to keep the bike steady. He grabbed her hand and put back around his waist, his grip tight.

She felt the bike slowing down and eventually he pulled it off the road and parked it next to a tree. Daryl left it running but he tore his helmet off to look at her.

"Ya tryin' ta get us killed?" He wished he could make himself sound more angry but was finding it a little difficult given how hard he was. Carol took off her own helmet and looked at him.

"I'm sorry," Carol whispered, looking up at him with big blue eyes that shone in the moonlight, biting her lip. She didn't look sorry at all. One hand was drifting up his chest and the other returned to his crotch; she smiled a seductive smile and Daryl's resolve broke.

"C'mere," he rumbled, voice getting husky. If she wanted it so bad, she could have it right here. He tugged on her arm and Carol dismounted the bike. She glanced around nervously before noticing this was the same spot Daryl had brought her to a few months ago for their little picnic. The only light was the half-moon above them and the tree and some bushes shielded them from the road; they had privacy here.

Carol shimmied out of her panties as Daryl got off the bike himself and shoved his jeans off before sitting back down. He pulled her towards him and Carol threw her leg over the bike, sitting on his lap with her back to the handle bars, her dress covering them both. His hands drifted under the dress to her bare ass to lift her up and Carol's feet found the footrests, helping him. Her hands gripped his tense biceps as Daryl drew her closer to him and slowly lowered her onto himself. They moaned as their bodies came together; the bike thrummed beneath them and it was sending delicious vibrations through them both.

"What have ya done to me?" He groaned. There was a time when sex barely ever crossed his mind; disgusted him, even. But now it was like he couldn't get enough of being with her; the smallest of things turning him on. And here he was, in the middle of nowhere, having sex on a goddamn _motorcycle_.

"I think I should be asking you that," Carol moaned. She was no different – she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. She'd never felt closer to another person in her life and Carol couldn't get enough. And she couldn't believe her boldness, touching him on the motorcycle like that, instigating this whole thing. But it also excited her, doing this out in the open even though it was dark.

Daryl didn't say anything, his eyes focused on what was directly in front of him – her chest. His hands came away from her hips and tugged the dress straps from her shoulders before pulling the dress down to reveal her breasts. Carol gasped when the air hit them and Daryl's mouth was on one instantly, sucking and nibbling gently. Her back arched into his mouth and her hands went to his hair, holding him in place as Daryl's hands returned to her hips, pulling her even closer.

Carol moved her hips in time with his hands, letting him set the pace as the coil in her gut got tighter and tighter. Her arms went around his shoulders, fingers digging into his back as his dug into her hips. She was breathing heavily into his hair and his mouth moved from one breast to the other, giving it the same treatment. All too soon, she was tensing against him, crying out as she came. Daryl slowed their movements and when she came back from the edge he'd sent her over, Carol noticed he was still hard inside her. He grinned up at her and she smiled back.

"Keep going," she whispered when she was ready to move again. She rolled her hips and held his face in her hands, kissing him.

Daryl let her set the pace this time; he liked watching her move, especially the bounce of her breasts. He loved feeling her body against his, letting her have control. And Carol absolutely loved getting to take the lead and she was most definitely going to take advantage of it. She clenched around him and Daryl gasped. She did it again and he realized she was doing it on purpose. He groaned as she continued with her pattern of tightening around him as she moved, driving him to the edge quickly. But she was getting close again as well. He was panting against her chest and Carol had her head thrown back in pleasure as her body tensed again, her walls tightening around him even more. Daryl tensed beneath her, hands clenching her hips and pulling her as close as she could get. He cried out with his release, holding her against him as waves of pleasure crashed over them both.

"_Wow_," was all she could manage after a few minutes, her head resting on his shoulder. They were still panting and their legs felt like jelly.

"Yeah . . ." he muttered before a sly smile crept onto his face. He glanced at her, "Ya said ya wanted ta ride me," he grinned and she laughed, leaning away from him, arms around his neck and eyes sparkling with joy.

"I did," she brushed sweaty bangs from his forehead. "And I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime," she kissed him softly.

"You can count on that," he muttered against her lips before she pulled away and dismounted the bike. Daryl pulled a cloth from one of the saddle bags for her to clean up with before using it himself as they got redressed. Carol returned to her spot on the bike, wrapping her arms around Daryl with a contented sigh. They both felt young and free and wild and they would bask in it together for as long as they could. "Gotta admit . . . Goin' ta parties like that ain't so bad if this is what I get to look forward to," he grinned and she giggled, tightening her arms around him as he took off towards home.

**-**TWD**-**

**A/N**: Another smutty chapter . . . I'm still not sorry. XD Daryl's got some catching up to do, methinks, and I'm taking full advantage of the happy ending I'm giving these two to include their fun times. ;) Have to give credit where credit is due: I got the idea for the motorcycle sex from the fic Saints and Sinners by haitus80.

And Maggie sending Carol the ring pic is _exactly _how my best friend told me she got engaged.

Hope you enjoyed. Review?


	30. Author's Note

**A/N: **Hey guys. First, don't freak out – I'm not about to tell you that I'm leaving this fic unfinished. I know y'all are expecting another chapter from me soon; unfortunately, real life is getting in the way and I don't have the time or energy to work on Dog Days right now. I'm currently pursuing a master's degree and have a midpoint review to prepare for this semester and the semester begins tomorrow.

I can't make any promises about when I think the next chapter will come out but I definitely don't want to leave you guys hangin' for too long. I'll do my best to work on it, little by little, but real life and school come first.

I am terribly sorry though. :(


End file.

Walking Dead, Angst, Hurt-Comfort